Fragments of a Dynasty
by RicardianScholar Clark-Weasley
Summary: snippets of the Tudor Dynasty, starting from Margret Beaufort and up to Elizabeth I exploring possabilities of one of the most interesting Royal families
1. Child Bride

**Summary: **the start of a dynasty, the day Margret Beaufort marries Edmund Tudor in the eyes of Jasper Tudor. Inspired by Philippa Gregory's novel The Red Queen.

**Pairings: **implied beginnings of Jasper/Margret

His brother's bride is barely a slip of a girl.

Small, flat as a boy, swamped in her bride clothing, and had the tiniest hands clasped into his brother's. Margret Beaufort was only twelve years old, as many brides usually are. But Jasper couldn't help think she was the tiniest bride to walk down the aisle. The wedding ring that had been picked out without much thought was so big on her tiny childlike finger that it kept slipping off and she had to pick it up off the floor countless of times.

Edmund didn't have much patience with her and Jasper couldn't blame him, after all they were two young men with a thirst to fight. They didn't need to be slowed down by a small little girl who is only here to give Edmund the sons he needs.

The wedding ceremony was dull but the feast afterwards was all good fun. As they prayed, Edmund nudges him and nods to his new little wife who looked very devout and pure as she prayed. Eyes shut peacefully, face relaxed but no smile; hands clasped tightly, the epitome of a good Christian.

She was praying longer than anyone else who had already begun to eat.

"It's bad enough I'm married to a child but a nun as well?" Edmund murmured into his ear.

Jasper attempted a laugh. He loved his brother and they usually had good fun teasing everyone around them but the moment Edmund had mocked his wife's devotion to God, her eyes opened and he saw something there.

"I hear her servants say she speaks to God," he murmured back. He was slightly awed in what he saw in the little girl's eyes. There was devotion, determination and a light that he had never seen in anyone. He could almost believe that she could hear God's voice. "They say she is fascinated with the Joan of Arc story," he added.

Edmund snorted. "Joan of Arc was a witch and nothing more, I don't believe the nonsense that she had spoken to angels. My new wife is a child still; she probably imagines it because she has nothing better to do than pray."

"Probably," Jasper snorted, he then stood up and held his goblet up. "To my brother and his new wife."

The guests cheered and all drank for Edmund and Margret Tudor. They ate and talked merrily before it was time for Edmund, Jasper and Margret to take their leave. It would be a long journey back.

As Margret met them at the door, her ring slipped and landed on the stone floor with a clang. She looked slightly irritated and embarrassed, Edmund grunted but Jasper smiled and bent down to pick it up, he presented to her as gallantly as he could without bursting out into laughter.

"Thank you," she said smiling for the first time.

Her face lit up with that smile. That light he saw earlier grew a little brighter in her dark eyes. He swallowed and shook his head. "There's nothing to it," he said, "come on Edmund we must go before it gets too dark."

He never cared before that he was the second son. After all, who needs all the hassle of being the heir when you can have all the fun you want as the second son? But for a moment, a split second, he wondered what it would have been like to be the first son, to be the one to marry and take this strange little girl back to his bed. He squashed the thought immediately, he might have seen something in this child but then again he's probably listened to too many servant whispers.

But there it was deep in his mind was a dark whispering as he watched Edmund grudgingly do his husbandly duty by helping Margret onto his horse. Edmund, who had little patience for women when he can be out doing whatever he wanted to do, will not be a good husband.

The dark little whisper in the back of Jasper Tudor's mind told him he would be a far better husband.

Jasper just put it down to the drink.


	2. The Need for an Heir

**Summary: **again, inspired by Philippa Gregory's work, Jasper's thoughts of the heir Edmund needs from Margret. As well as the birth of Henry Tudor.

**Pairings: **implied Jasper/Margret, sort of Edmund/Margret

Two months after the wedding a no sign of an heir. Jasper had questioned Edmund about it and regretted it the moment the words came out.

"I have been doing my duty!" Edmund scowled. "Lord knows it is difficult with her looking so plain and small but I still do it. I do it every night, if you think you can do it better then you try it."

Jasper ignored the scandalous sinful implication of Edmund's outburst. He decided to let the subject go since it did nothing but agitate his brother even more. He glanced down at the table where Margret sat staring resolutely at the wall and he knew she heard every word. They tended to have a habit of talking over her and not acknowledging her existence. He could not understand why Edmund did it but he knew why he did. It would only a take a glance at her and he would wonder what it was about her that Edmund didn't find attractive. She might not have the womanly body that was preferable but that would come in time, she had though pale creamy skin, deep dark eyes that just knew things that no man could, shiny dark hair that would occasionally escape from her headdress and a aura that provoked the desire to protect her. Probably because she was so small and delicate looking.

If it had been another woman, another man's wife who he did not care for, another world where sins would not send you to hell, he would have taken up Edmund's offer of trying to make an heir on her.

Instead he would drink deeply from his cup and head to his room to sleep and let Edmund do it all instead.

Which he did splendidly.

A month later with their childhood nurse rushing to them with the excited news of her ladyship being with child, Jasper knew Edmund had done his duty and no longer needed to complain about his wife. That day had been the only time he had seen Edmund tender and delighted with his wife. The triumphant blaze in Margret's eyes lit her whole face and everyone was merry.

But it did not last.

Edmund died. His brother, his best friend, his companion for life, had died. Jasper was now alone in the world. His other half, his older brother who had always been there, was gone. There was an empty space within him as God took his beloved brother. And his wife that he did not love and who did not love him in return, who never got to learn to love him, was now a widow. A widow heavily with child. A child who will not know his father. If the child was a boy, he would most likely be like Edmund, hopefully the living image of his beloved brother. Even if he did not look like Edmund and took his mother's features, Jasper could train him and teach him to be a great man like his father. If it was a daughter...

A girl would most likely remain with Margret wherever she went in life and he would never have any piece of his brother. But if it was a girl...if it was possible for him to have guardianship of her...

He jumped off his horse and stood before the young girl who stood tall like a woman. Heavy with child but held it with piety and grace as if she was the Virgin Mary. Lovely dark eyes that were grave and solemn as she knew what happened and though she did not love him...

If it was a daughter Margret has in her belly. Then he only hoped she would have her mother's eyes while the rest being solely Edmund's image.

He falls to his knees before her and pledges his allegiance. She was his family now. His mother long lost, his father gone, his brothers forever lost and now stood his brother's wife the only other Tudor on this land.

He did his duty as a brother and took care of her. She was not the most exciting company, she did not joke or banter or tease like Edmund did. She was silent and pious and grave, they spent most of their time together praying for good health of her child. When she did speak to him, she had given him her full attention and he would never admit, not even to his priest that he revelled in her attentions. That he desired to have more of her attention than she could give.

Then the longest day had fallen upon them. He was kept locked out of her birthing chamber as she went through the harshest, complicated birth that he ever heard. He is sure that no woman had ever gone through the labours Margret Tudor went through to give birth to his brother's heir. He could hear her screams and moans and whimpers corridors away and spent all night and day outside of the door waiting for the midwife to come out and tell him any sort of news. Bad or good, at this point he didn't care as long as he knew what was happening.

"It's a boy," the midwife told him. She looked exhausted as he felt and did not stay for much longer before taking room in one of the guest chambers to rest.

He looked in on Margret and found a small girl, paler than ever with deep circles under her eyes. But, oh, her eyes were sparkling like jewels. She was fiercely proud as she held onto her child.

"We'll name him Edmund Owen Tudor," he told her. He did not know her well as he had liked but he knew her well enough to know she would hate being coddled and mothered right now.

"No," she said, argumentative and fierce as if she hadn't spent over thirty hours giving birth, "his name is Henry. That is a king's name and he is the king's heir."

There was an unsaid sentence that would become said over and over again in the future. God had told me he will be king. Margret knew her son, his nephew, Edmund's heir, would become a great man and great king.

They finally had an heir.

The king's heir.


	3. To Never Have or Hold

**Summary: **also inspired by Philippa Gregory, Jasper's thoughts of giving up Margret to yet again another husband.

**Pairings: **Jasper/Margret, Henry Stafford/Margret.

He felt his throat tighten to the point where he couldn't swallow.

Why on earth did God decide a man could not marry his brother's widow? Is it not a man's duty to take care of his kin? Would he not take better care of Margret if he could marry her and keep her at Pembroke?

Surely he would take better care of her than Sir Henry Stafford who, like Jasper had been, was merely the second son. Who would never inherit the Dukedom, so what was the point? Surely the Earl of Pembroke would take better care of the Lancastrian heiress than a mere knight. Surely the man who will take care of her son for the rest of his life would be better for the mother? Surely he, Jasper Tudor, was the best for Margret Beaufort?

The past two years had been a strange bliss after Henry was born.

Every day he would visit the nursery to find Margret there. They would tell Henry stories or play with him or help him learn to walk. They spent such a large part of their lives together that it would be quiet and terrifying to not have Margret in his life. Every morning he would go to Mass to find her praying solemnly and every morning afterwards she would place her tiny hand on his arm and he would escort her to breakfast. Just like every evening he would escort her to dinner and every night he would escort her to her bedchamber's door.

So how could he be expected to give her up to Sir Henry Stafford?

He would not say anything as he watches her become another man's wife again. He would not say anything as she complains and cries and begs him to let her stay. He would never really be allowed to say anything because she had chosen God long ago and if he had given her a choice of his own hand in marriage or a chance to be a nun, she would take the latter immediately.

And yet...he has seen the way she looks at him. The overwhelming look of desire mixed with fondness and sheer happiness. He has listened closely to her and can hear the words unsaid, words that she wants him to say as well. Words that could never be said without them both sinning. He has felt her arms round him when she has hugged him in one of her moments of forgetting propriety, the feel of her hair beneath his chin as her head rests on his shoulder. And that one time, years after he watched her be given to Sir Henry Stafford, he remembers the feel of her lips against his.

And as he sets out for another battle, another chance to die knowing he'll never have Margret, another chance to fight for Margret and her son's right for the throne, he thinks that he is the better man.

For no one could love her more. No one could know her better. No one could let her be free as he can. No one can see that godly light in her eyes.


	4. Leading Light

**Summary: **out in exile, Henry asks his uncle about his mother and Jasper thinks.

**Pairings: **slight Jasper/Margret, mother/son Henry/Margret.

"Tell me about My Lady Mother."

Jasper sat back in his chair by the fire and observed his young nephew. He was now sixteen years old and looked mostly like his mother. He had her fine eyes and colouring of both skin and hair though he definitely had the Tudor nose. It was difficult to look at him without thinking of what could have been if he had not been the second son.

This boy in front of him might have been his own son in everything and not just by thought.

He tried pulling himself away from thoughts of Margret and speaking to his nephew. He had not seen her for years and only had letters inquiring after her son's health and their plans. She was married again to another man and he's only comfort about that was the marriage was never to be consummated.

"Your Lady Mother is a very fine woman," Jasper started. "She is not beautiful as most men like to believe but she has a light within her that will draw their attention. She holds heavenly light within her because she has God speaking to her and only to her. That is why she is not with us because God told her she must do her work in England so she could make your path clear towards the throne. God desires you to be King over any of the Yorks."

Henry was frowning which he has started to do a lot recently whenever they spoke about his mother.

"Henry?" he said quietly. "Is there something upsetting you?"

"Do you think she loves me? My Lady Mother, do you think she wants me?" Henry asked. "Not just because God told her that I'll be King."

Jasper had to suppress the urge to sigh. It was a nobleman's duty to serve the King first, then to attend to their estates, and finally to visit their children. Many children must wonder daily whether or not their parents wanted them especially the daughters.

"Henry, for the first two years of your life your Lady Mother spent every day with you. When God willed her to marry Sir Henry Stafford she had wept because she wanted to stay with you and never marry again. But she did her duty, Henry, she obeyed God and though she is not with us she is always thinking of you. She is your leading light and she'll bring you home one day and make you the King you are meant to be. Just like Joan of Arc did for the French King."

"Do you think she'll like me?"

Jasper nodded. "You're your mother's son,"

Which was true even in his attitude and person was nothing like Edmund Tudor. Henry was quiet, studious and determined like his mother. He thought things through thoroughly and rarely allowed anyone see the true passion within him. He was Margret's son, every inch of him.

He just lacked her light. Her confidence that he is most loved by God. Her ability to remain serene and peaceful despite the war surrounding her.

But if he had her light then they would not need a leading light. Therefore it didn't matter if Henry lacked some of Margret's spiritual traits.

They spent the rest of the evening murmuring plans and plots and occasionally a story about Margret. If there was one person who loved Margret more than Jasper then it must be Henry. A son's love can be a powerful thing if they're willing to do anything to please their parent.

Margret will lead them to the throne in time. It may take years but she'll do it. Because she was special like that. She was bright and intelligent and filled with guidance from God.

She was their leading light.


	5. To Unite Two Houses

**Summary:** Henry Tudor thinks about his mother's plans for him to marry Elizabeth of York.

**Pairings: **sort of one-sided Henry/Elizabeth.

He stared at his mother's letter in disbelief.

"It's a good plan," his uncle said approvingly, "It would unite the two houses and end all the wars within England. You'll be martyred as the king who ended war."

He never imagined getting married. Sure he knew that he had to some day to have an heir to continue his family line. But he never imagine who his bride might be, what she might look like and how she might act. He never thought further ahead than arriving to his mother and announcing he was king.

And yet here was written prove that he will be married after he is king and evidence of a bride waiting for him.

He had to unite the Lancaster House, his own house, to the York House, his rival house the one that overthrown his cousin, the one that had separated him from his very own mother, the one that had caused his uncle to leave him many times before. And he was to marry the eldest daughter of its deceased family head.

Elizabeth of York.

A real princess in her very own right while there are those very willing to point out that all he is is an Earl and according to the House of York, he's not even that.

He had asked her older half-brother about her.

"She is very fair looking, a perfect image of our mother and her father, she is kind-hearted, very obedient but has an inner-strength that not many women have," he said, "She'll be a very good wife."

He had only seen the King Edward IV and his queen at a distance but he had heard many descriptions to be able to create an image of Elizabeth in his mind. Beautiful face, slim but curvy, long gold red hair, grey sharp eyes, he can like how she looks very much, but can he learn to love her?

She must hate him. It is bad enough that she is hiding in a church because of her very own mother's deeds, that her own flesh and blood has been killed in favour of her uncle to rule. It is bad enough to know that if her uncle was dethroned she will never get to rule, she might become his queen and be Queen of England, but she will never have the power.

But to unite both houses...to create peace...

It was so very tempting and he can try to give her peace and happiness in her own life.

So here he stands, a ring held up high as he makes a promise to God that he will marry Elizabeth of York.

He will unite the two houses and create peace.

He will obey his Lady Mother's orders because she is never wrong.

He can see where her plan is heading and he likes the idea of everlasting peace.

He will unite the two houses and marry Elizabeth of York.


	6. Home

**Summary: **after so many years apart, Henry greets his mother after winning the Battle of Bosworth.

**Pairings: **mother/son in Henry/Margret, father/son implied Henry/Jasper, implied Jasper/Margret.

She greeted him at the door of her manor.

After winning the battle and the war Henry had ridden immediately to his mother. His stepfather and Uncle Jasper were either side of him as they were met either with cheers or disgruntlement from the people they rode past.

He had to see his mother. The woman, who had prayed, written, plotted endlessly for him. Who worked endlessly for years to get him to this point.

Many might think it strange. One of the first things Edward IV did when he was made king had been to find a beautiful woman and celebrate his victory. While he, Henry, began to run the moment he was announced King of England towards the woman who made it all possible for him. His mother.

He had missed her in a way. He can barely remember what she looked like but he can remember her voice and her words and how she had always been right. He knew she worked endlessly for him. That she had done everything, including marrying this icy man beside him, to secure his place on the throne.

She was dressed plainly but richly in black and white. She was pale faced but with dark sparkling eyes and looked undaunted by the fact she had many soldiers coming towards her. He can see why Uncle Jasper claimed she had an inner light within her that no person could have.

He jumped off his horse and headed slowly towards her...what if God had changed his mind and no longer wanted him to be king? What if his mother wanted nothing to do with him even though he is king? What if Uncle Jasper ran off while he was busy looking at his mother who he had not seen in so many years? What if a messenger came and announced that Elizabeth of York refuses to marry him? So many things can still go wrong.

She curtseys deeply. "Your Majesty," she says, "It is an honour to welcome your home."

He bows. "It is an honour to be home, My Lady Mother," he says.

"We have a room prepared for you, Your Majesty," she says calmly and distantly. His stomach churns, did she not love him as a son? Was he solely a monarch to her? "Would you care for a wash and rest before we dine?"

"Please," he says, unable to say anything else.

He watches as Thomas Stanley, his stepfather, greets his mother coldly but politely while his Uncle Jasper greets her warmly as he kisses her hand and calls her sister. Then they all made their way inside the manor. Stanley went his own way to his own chamber while Henry is pleased to see that his mother has taken over the task of showing him his own chambers.

The moment the door shuts her polite facade fades away. He feels warm arms wrap around him and he leans into his mother's embrace that felt so familiar and warm. He could almost remember being held like this long ago when he was a child.

"I am so proud of you Henry," she murmurs as he holds her tightly. "I knew you would be king, God had told me so, but for you to manage it so quickly...I am so happy that you have come home at last."

"So am I, My Lady Mother," he says, now feeling reassured.

He feels his Uncle Jasper give him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder before placing a hand on his mother's shoulder. His face was lit up with a large grin and Henry cannot help but smile back. They were finally reunited, the three of them were together again, after such a long time apart.

They shall never be parted again. The three of them shall remain a family until their deaths.

He was finally home.


	7. Two Months

**Summary:** Henry is uncertain and rather frightened about marrying Elizabeth of York. He seeks advice on how to win her over before the big day.

**Pairings: **Henry/Elizabeth, slightly Jasper/Margret, implied possible Richard/Elizabeth.

She was so beautiful and terrifyingly regal that he had chosen to wait two months before marrying her.

Of course he had been busy doing all the kingly business. He had to meet with Parliament, secure loyalty oaths, arrest threats to his throne, arrange a coronation, start working on laws, start taking care of the treasury, build up a privy council. He had been too_ busy_ to get married, not scared.

And yet a small part of him had been frightened that she would despise him for killing her uncle. That she would loath him, for killing the man that she – was rumoured to have – loved. She could easily claim to have true royal blood and attempt to overthrow him with her rage and hatred. It happened over a century ago with another queen who felt mistreated by her husband. Granted she was French and therefore was passionate and difficult by sheer nature. She was so much more than any woman he had seen. His mother may have been guided by God but Elizabeth gives out the impression that she is a Goddess in her own right.

It's quite frankly terrifying.

"I do not know what to do," he confessed one day to his Mother and Uncle.

"Court her," Jasper's immediate answer was, "you need to woo her and learn who she is to be able to win her over."

"_How_?"

It was pathetic to admit that he – a king who had won his crown in battle – had no idea how to court a woman. He had always been too busy with his studies or battle planning or wondering about his Mother to think about a woman in such a way.

"It should not matter," his Mother said briskly. "You should concentrate on private matters after the wedding, we shall need an heir."

Henry knew that. He needed a son desperately to secure his dynasty but he was not sure how to do things...what if he hurt Elizabeth? What if he could not do it in the end? He could not risk the chance of being impotent.

"My Lady as more experience in these matters," Jasper said, "But even she would tell you that a woman would not say no to a little gift here and there, some sweet words whispered and the gentlest kiss like so," he bowed to Henry's mother and took her hand placing a gentle kiss upon it as if she was a queen herself.

He had only just gotten to know his mother again but in the short time he had spent with her he had never seen her turn so red.

"It is a shame that the roses have died," Henry said looking at the barren garden. "I could have given her some white and red ones."

Both his mother and uncle nodded their approval. "It would give the exact message we want the country to hear," his mother said. "I suggest you ask her to dance tonight. It's cheaper that way."

"I never knew you were a miser," Henry would swear on his soul that his uncle was using a teasing tone. He never believed his uncle could tease his mother considering how highly he had thought of her.

His mother sniffed. "I am merely pointing out that the treasury is almost empty because of our wars. Elizabeth of York had always been treated as a princess, she might expect jewels and silks but you cannot give them to her. You cannot afford to."

"Do not worry, My Lady Mother," Henry said. "I will not waste a penny on her unless it is for the Twelfth Night or our Wedding."

His mother blessed him with a small smile that lit up her whole face. She looked younger than she did moments before. "Ask her to dance," she commanded. "I must go that Elizabeth Woodville wants to discuss wedding plans."

The disgust in her tone was evident. Henry barely knew his future mother in law but from the rumours, her appearances and what he had been told by his own mother, he knew that she was a passionate ambitious woman that almost rivalled his mother in manipulating events. They have both been the Lady of opposite houses for over a decade. It would take centuries for them to completely forget their rivalry.

"I shall escort you," Jasper said offering her his arm. "Remember Henry, court your lady and wed her soon. Your Lady Mother is quite right, we do need an heir."

"I will Uncle, do not worry within a year we shall have an heir in the nursery," Henry said trying to appease his two most favourite people in the world.

"Oh you shall," his mother said with a large smile that was closer to a smirk, "both you and Lady Elizabeth of York are from very fertile stock."

As soon as they were gone Henry sighed and sat down on the cold marble bench. As loving and supportive they can be his mother and uncle was not the best at giving him proper advice. He is fully aware that his Uncle Jasper has never been married and his Lady Mother while been married thrice has never been courted, had never made a love match. As silly as it might seem, he wanted his wife to love him, he wanted her to want him, to desire him. It would make it all so simpler for them all if she did.

"Your Majesty?"

A soft voice called him from his thoughts and it took all self control to not jump off the bench.

The Lady Elizabeth was standing before him. All in her beauty and grace that has intimidated him over and over.

He stood up and gave her a shallow bow, "My Lady," he murmured, "I did not expect you."

"I was in need of fresh air and took a walk, Your Majesty," she said curtseying deeply. "Do you wish to be alone?"

"No!" he said quickly, "I would quite enjoy your company, My Lady, we are soon to be wed and I wish to know my wife." He offered his arm to her and he was pleased to see her give him a soft sweet smile before she accepted his arm. "I was hoping that tonight we could dance, I have not had much practise and I heard you enjoyed dancing very much."

"I do, it would be an honour and pleasure to dance with Your Majesty," Elizabeth said quietly, her smile never wavering.

He still didn't know what was going on in that sweet head of hers! It frustrated him that he cannot know what she is thinking! Did she like him? Was she simply speaking as a courtier would? Was she secretly wishing him dead or sinfully desiring him as he was her? If only God had gifted him with the power to read minds!

"It is me that has the honour and pleasure, My Lady," he said just as quietly. From the corner of his eye he could see a member of his privy council waiting for him anxiously. "I am afraid I must leave you, My Lady, it was...pleasant to walk with you. I shall see you at dinner," without hesitation but with a lot of uncertainty he grabbed her hand gently and placed a kiss upon her knuckles. He was pleased to see the faintest tinge of pink in her cheeks. "Farewell for now," he said.

She curtseyed. "Until dinner, Your Majesty," she said.

He found himself eager to marry her. Not now though, he was too scared she would hate him, but in a couple months he will be able to mask all his fears and worries to be a good husband. Whether or not she wants him.

Just two months and then they will be man and wife.

King and Queen.


	8. Camelot

**Summary: **Henry and Elizabeth discuss names for their future child.

**Pairings: **Henry/Elizabeth

It was on one of those nights that the rest of the Court never knew about. To the Court and the rest of the country Henry was of course a cold unfeeling man who only did his duty to his wife and nothing more. To Elizabeth and he was a closed up man who had difficulty trying to express his affections to a person. They have often spent evenings sitting close by the fire either in a peaceful silence or murmuring about their day and sharing ideas with one another.

These nights they talk about the child that Elizabeth was carrying. It had been four months since they had married and she was already four months along, their mothers were becoming rather insufferably smug about their fertility.

They were debating about what to call their son or god forbid their daughter. Although he was aware that Elizabeth was the first daughter of many before her brothers were born it would not help him to keep his throne if he kept producing daughters.

"If it is a daughter," he really could not help but wince at his words, "maybe we should choose a neutral name so we would not offend my Lady Mother or yours. I had thought about Mary, I know my Lady Mother would not argue with us calling our daughter after the Virgin herself."

Elizabeth smiled softly and gently, "I am sure my own Lady Mother would not mind if I were to call my eldest daughter after my Lady, the King's Mother. She has, after all, housed me during those dark times before you won the war and it is the greatest sign of respect and gratitude."

He could not help but sigh in relieve. Elizabeth had been a wonderful blessing to him during these stressful months of kingship. Everyone had their own opinions that needed to be shouted at him as if he was a peasant in a market. Everyone wanted something. His Lady Mother, though God knows he loves her, has done nothing but nag for the past two months over certain policies. Elizabeth was quiet, calm, and obedient and knows how to keep the peace. She was his greatest comfort as some nights when he is most frustrated she simply holds him and sooths him. And here she is now willing to appease his very demanding mother by naming their eldest daughter after her instead of her own mother and herself.

"We could use Margret, Elizabeth, and then Mary in that order," Elizabeth concluded, he nodded, it did not matter to him really, after all, it was just girl names. "Are we to name him Henry if it is a boy?" she asked.

"I thought to keep that name for the second son," Henry replied. "I had wanted a name that would mean a great King in the eyes of the people. A name that would make the Welsh proud to have this boy as their Prince."

She looked thoughtful. They both knew about the Great King Richard I, Richard the Lion Heart, the popular King that fought valiantly in the Crusades. They could not use that name! It had been tarnished by the tyrant Richard III! The man that held Elizabeth's own brothers captive and might have killed them himself. The man that Henry would most likely hate for the rest of his life as he wonders if his beloved wife had ever held romantic notions for her very own uncle. They could not name their son Richard!

Edward was out of the question as well. Maybe for a third son out of the respect of the father of his wife though he would prefer Edmund after his own father, a man whose faithfulness has never been questioned. Henry had liked the idea of naming his son after his Uncle Jasper but then that might bring up questions that no one would want to answer, such as why he had not chosen his own father's name?

"William is a good option," Elizabeth said, "He, much like you, had won his throne on the battlefield against a pretender."

"It would be a good name," Henry agreed.

William Tudor did have some appeal, another King William would be a break from the king Edwards and Henrys and Richards. But it lacked that special appeal that he wanted for his son.

"Or," Elizabeth said quieter than ever, "we could call him Arthur after those legends of Camelot."

Arthur.

Henry had grown up with those legends being told as bedtime stories. If his Uncle Jasper had not been telling tales about his mother he would tell him about the One Great King, King Arthur of Camelot. The man that had been betrayed by his beloved wife and dearest friend. The man that had been the greatest king in all of history.

Camelot would be the greatest goal. Henry is working so very hard to create and keep peace n England. To have a son that would continue this goal to the point of the most peaceful kingdom in the world was an idea that even his own Mother would not have thought of.

"Arthur," he repeated, "King of the new Camelot."

"The Camelot his father had created," Elizabeth said serenely.

Yes, he would achieve his goal of creating a peaceful and rich country so his own son would have a Camelot to rule. He would choose carefully for the wife of this son, he would keep a watchful eye on the nobles surrounding his son in case one had a wandering eye for women.

He would create a Camelot that would last forever and his son Arthur would rule it.


	9. Revenge

**Summary: **Elizabeth Woodville fumes at being locked away.

**Pairings: **slight Edward IV/Elizabeth Woodville.

She could feel her anger coursing through her blood. A strong surge of power as she had the sudden desire to curse them all. To curse that uptight snob and her precious son. The desire to curse her very own daughters for not standing up for her.

She was the Queen Dowager! The rightful wife of Edward IV, no matter what that little runt Richard had to say about it. While she was nothing but My Lady, the King's Mother. My Lady, the King's Mother thinks she can just hide the Queen Dowager in a little convent in the middle of nowhere, did she? Put away one of the most powerful women of England and expect no sort of revenge?

Well she was wrong.

She underestimated Elizabeth Woodville. She refuses to believe the very true legend that Elizabeth descends from Goddesses. Not normal lords and kings that Margret Beaufort descended from, no Elizabeth were superior in her very blood despite her poor gentry's status.

She had no idea what Elizabeth did for her husband. The enemies she cursed and conspired against, the many children she bore and plotted to keep safe, the many mistresses she outwitted and outflirted.

She had known something like this was going to happen. Her little girl had turned on her, decided to keep silent while her husband locked her mother up, she no longer had a friend in the world, and most of her family is dead while those alive were locked away as well.

But she wasn't going to take it lying down. No, she had a little card up her sleeve – the same card she had in her belly all those years ago. One of her sons is still alive. Her little Richard was still out there and he'll make Henry Tudor wish he never sat on the throne of England.

She'll have her revenge.

She'll show so much passion it'll make that stupid My Lady, the King's Mother faint in shock and horror because it was sinful and disgraceful.

The tides will turn. Henry Tudor will be banished in disgrace, his mother locked in a convent, and his wife will be kept under watch by the new My Lady, the King's Mother. But this new one would be nobler and worthy since the title will only follow after the Queen Dowager.

She is Elizabeth Woodville.

She was the most beloved wife of one of the greatest kings of England.

She is all passion, fire, revenge, magic, and more importantly a mother.

Margret Beaufort will regret crossing Elizabeth Woodville.


	10. Sin

**Summary: **Margret is trying to seek penance for all of her sins.

**Pairings: **Margret/Jasper

It was an old ritual that became part of her daily life.

She spent six hours praying but praying would never be enough to secure penance. So every night after discussing policies with her beloved son, the King (she could never get tired of that and often repeated the words to herself), she would command her maids to leave her, undress herself to her night shirt and roll up the sleeve before burning her skin with the candle flame.

To place her beloved son, the king, on the throne she had to commit terrible crimes and even worse sins. She had so much sin within herself that she would not be surprised that God will send her into the burning flames of hell itself.

No one knew she did this. She wore long sleeves and never needed to show skin to anyone, after all her marriage to Stanley had always remained unconsummated.

It was her dark secret that would remain so until God passes judgement on her.

It would had remained her secret if Jasper had learnt to knock. Alas, he had kept the old habit of walking into her chambers at any moment without a notice. A habit that grew from their time together alone when Henry was only a baby. If it was not about propriety and appearances she would not have minded it when he did it now.

She was furious for him to intrude on her but her fury was nothing compared to his when he saw her arm.

He did not say anything. He could not argue with her really because he knew it was a lost cause. She had always been devoted to God and he always knew he would come second to God. So instead of lecturing her and shouting his anger out to the world, he simply simmered as he pressed the gentlest kisses on her arm as if they were the healing touch itself, unknowingly adding to her sin.

"You should not be doing this to yourself," he murmured.

"You have no right to tell me what I can or cannot do," she said with her head held up high, "You are not my husband, you are her husband."

There was an irrational surge of jealousy that she has still unable to control though it has been over a year since he married.

"Katherine Woodville is the sister to your daughter in law's mother. We had both agreed that we would be able to keep the peace for this country if we tied ourselves to not only to the Yorks but to the Woodvilles too."

"That does not mean I have to like it," she said somewhat sullenly.

He pressed his lips against hers, his hand had suddenly moved into her loose hair, pinning her head to him as his other hand held her waist. The kiss was soft, gentle, and mostly chaste though it had sent a jolt of desire through her.

It was causing more sin. She should not be lusting after him, she should not want to kiss him, to want to lay with him, and it was all sin.

"I remain completely devoted to you," he said when he pulled away from her. "My heart has never belonged to anyone but you. If it had not been God's law...or your Mother or anyone else I would have married you instead of Katherine. Instead I shall solely remain your obedient servant, loving you afar with a burning longing that will never die, while you continue being the greatest woman in the land. Just stop harming yourself; you are very much loved by God as well as by me."

His words do not comfort you. You are now covered in sin and the moment he is gone you devote your night praying and showing your desire for penance by punishing your body. In the morning you dress and go down to the chapel. You slip into the confession booth and the priest is speaking to you.

_Forgive me Father but I have sinned... _


	11. Choice

**Summary: **based on the Princes in the Tower drama-documentary on Channel 4. Elizabeth has to choose, her brother or her sons. Why can't she just choose her husband?

**Pairings: **Elizabeth/Henry, implied Elizabeth/Richard III, sibling relationship Elizabeth/Richard of York.

"You cannot have both; you will reach a point where you will choose between your brother and your sons."

She frowns. "You did not mention my husband."

"I am not foolish enough to think I would enter the equation."

She sighs and smiles up to him gently. "Love was never part of the arrangement."

"It was never part of your arrangement," he huffs before rolling over. A moment of silence and he turns to look at her again. "How do you even know he's your brother?"

She knew because she helped her mother dress her little brother in rags and a poor boy in riches. She knew because her mother wrote and informed her little brother of every little detail that she heard about her other son's death. She knew because she looked at him and saw that little boy that she bathed and looked after when she was a young girl.

She never thought she would have to choose. Henry has shown himself to be a loving man with a strong sense of honour. She thought he would abdicate for her brother and her sons would be his heirs until he has a son himself. She never really wanted to be Queen of England anyway and she would be content on standing aside.

The only person that would be likely to object would be Margret Beaufort but surely a nunnery would keep her silent.

Her beautiful boys, both golden and pure, Arthur so very selfless and Henry filled with so much love...or her loving brother who has grown to be so much like her father without the wild side?

What about her wonderful husband that has loved her and cared for her? The man that ignored every whisper and rumour about her? Yes the love and been a result of something arranged but it was still love, was it not?

The interrogations and providing evidence for Richard was becoming very tiresome. Margret is whispering poison in everyone's ear. Her sons and daughters are guarded even more so and her brother is on the verge of either being king or hanged.

"You are happy," Richard murmured on the very rare moment they were alone, "Who would have thought a cold man like that could make you happy. Then again, you always were Uncle Richard's favourite."

"He is a very loving man, just very private."

"Uncle Richard or your husband?"

"Both."

"I've been told your sons would have to die if I became king. Your mother in law seems to think so. I thought that was nonsense, if I simply have your marriage annulled and declare them bastards they can live."

Her breath caught in her throat. "You would take me away from Henry?"

Her brother looked at her astonished. "You love him."

And it suddenly clicked. Everyone has to make a decision at some point in their life. People have to choose all the time. Henry and everyone else think she has to choose between Lancaster and York, the start of that damn war all over again. Everyone thinks it's a choice between her brother and her son, sweet little Arthur.

But they do not consider another choice.

A choice she will only partially regret.

"I choose my husband."

She never saw her brother again. He refused to see her, he signed a confession, was beaten so harshly that there was no more likeness between him and her father. He was hanged, the country was safe and suddenly everyone forgot about her lovely wonderful brother as they celebrated the new betrothal between her son and a princess of Spain.

She looks upon her husband's face and feels a stab of hatred.

She hates him so much because he has made her love him. She hates him because now when it comes down to it, it will always be him, she will always choose him.

Her heart breaks knowing she has killed her brother.

Her marriage begins to fall apart.

That little last part of that strong magical goddess her mother thinks they are...faded, declined, died...

She has given up.

She has made her choice.

She will be the forever silent, obedient, loving wife of a cold king.


	12. Temptation

**Summary: **Henry VII is tempted by a new beauty at Court.

**Pairings: **one-sided Henry VII/Katherine of Aragon, implied Henry/Elizabeth

She was beautiful.

Stunningly so. She had deep auburn hair hidden beneath a Spanish style hood that showed her clear beautiful face to the world. Her skin was clear, pale, and smooth, not a wrinkle or blemish in sight. Her eyes were deep oceans filled with mischief, intelligence and ambition. Her overall manner was obedient and modest while she danced gracefully and obviously enjoyed the attention paid to her.

He wanted her.

He wanted her more than anything and that disgusted him. It was wrong and sinful, she was far too young, she was to marry his son, she was not his wife, and the list could go on why he should not want her. And yet he does, he desired her more and more each day. He was burning to catch a glimpse of her.

He has never been attracted to any other but Elizabeth. So this new burning desire for Catalina the infanta of Spain was surprising and new, and terrifying.

"Why?" Elizabeth asked quietly on those rare nights alone. "Why her? Why your own son's wife?"

He looked at his aged wife, his faded wife, his wife who only did her duty and no longer actually lived.

And suddenly he had his answer on why Catalina was so very tempting.

"She reminds me of you when you were young."


	13. End of an Era

**Summary: **Margret Beaufort watches everyone dies and a new era starting.

**Pairings: **implied Jasper/Margret, Henry VII/Elizabeth, Henry VII/Katherine of Aragon, Henry VIII/Katherine of Aragon, and Arthur/Katherine of Aragon. Mother/son relationship Margret/Henry.

The day Jasper died was the death of Margret's heart.

She loved him so passionately and so devotedly that without his presence on Earth she had no reason to love any more. Yes she still had her son but he was distracted as she was over the threat of the Pretender that they spent no family time as they had before. She prayed, she ate, she made royal decrees, and she slept. But she no longer lived and she no longer loved.

The day Arthur died was the beginning of the end for Margret Beaufort.

Her sweet peaceful grandson who obeyed every order as his duty dictated was now gone. With him was gone the alliance with Spain as his widowed wife was most definitely not with child. With him was gone Henry's peace of mind as the throne was left with a selfish sunny child who was just so very naive. With him was gone what little happiness Elizabeth of York had left. With him was gone the idea of Camelot.

The day Elizabeth of York died along with her newborn baby was the death of Margret's son's heart.

She never realised how much her son loved his wife until Elizabeth was gone. He was paler, weaker, crueller and colder. Her grandson began to hate him, her granddaughters drifted further away, and he was determined to make the Dowager Princess Catalina miserable for refusing his offer of marriage. She began to feel the chill of the very cold Court that was never warm to begin with due to her rationing of the fire.

The day Henry died it was the real end for Margret Beaufort.

Her little boy. Her precious baby boy was gone from the world. Her son that she raised with Jasper was gone. Can no one understand how wrong and terrible and bad it is for her to outlive her only child? And to top it off Henry, her grandson is not listening to her. He is marrying his brother's wife (the marriage was consummated, Margret had always been a gifted liar and she knew Catalina was making a lie, and therefore Henry is committing a sin and it will curse her dynasty). He is throwing firewood around as if it was water. He is playing games, making war, inviting commoners into the world of nobility and he is the very shame of both the Lancaster and York lines. Even Elizabeth Woodville would roll in her grave at the selfishness of this little boy.

She just wanted to die and not watch this disgusting new era of war and debt.

There was an end of an era, her era, and she was still here.

It was a relieve when she could no longer get out of bed.

It was a blessing when the priests surrounded her and her renewed granddaughter in law held her hand as she prayed.

It was a comfort to know that her name would always be remembered. As long as there is a church Catalina had said.

It was coming home when she left the world and felt the warm loving arms of Jasper Tudor wrap round her and sees Henry's happy smile and Elizabeth's glowing eyes, and she can hear Arthur's sweet quiet voice greet her.

It was an end of a peaceful calm era.

The King is dead.

The Queen is dead.

The King's Mother is dead.

Long live the King. All hail King Henry VIII!


	14. Promises

**Summary: **a little something I wrote for a competition last year (I lost). Katherine of Aragon thinks of the consequences of promises

**Pairings: **Katherine/Henry, Katherine/Arthur, implied Henry/Anne

I was no more than sweet sixteen when I was whisked away  
to a foreign wet land, promising promises that only death could break.  
Death broke and broke and he lay there weak and broken as the promise  
"promise me...promise me you'll marry Henry" he whispered.

I promise, I promise, I promise  
anything for you my love, my sweetheart, my beloved.  
I promise, I promise, I promise  
no matter what, even as I'm thrown into poverty  
my dowry missing, my clothes no longer fit, no food on my plate.  
I promise, I promise, I promise

And so here I was, standing before the world  
swearing to only love this boy and he to me  
slipping a ring on his finger and whispering  
"I promise, I do"

I promise, I promise, I promise  
on my sweet virginal lie  
I promise, I promise, I promise  
as we lie together and make a child  
as I sit on the throne as your queen  
I promise, I promise, I promise

There have been others, I am no fool.  
But they come and go and I'm his only  
as promised to one another  
our holy marriage vows.

I promise, I promise, I promise  
I'll try harder, I'll pray longer  
I promise, I promise, I promise  
anything for a boy, a prince for  
my childish king, a sweet babe in the cradle, please  
I promise, I promise, I promise

That whore! With her shiny black hair  
and her glittering black eyes  
smirking down at me as she wraps her arms round him.  
My husband! Not yours! We're married!

I promise, I promise, I promise  
it was not consummated, you were my first  
I promise, I promise, I promise  
don't take Mary away my daughter,  
don't send me away as if I'm nothing, I am queen!  
I promise, I promise, I promise

Screw you! I feel like shouting  
as I put my fake smile and declare myself  
as his loyal wife and nothing more, the smile I wear  
as I'm sent away, banished, gone forever as he marries her, the whore.

I promise, I promise, I promise  
I am a good daughter of the faith  
I promise, I promise, I promise  
I'll remain so even though our holy father is banished  
our beautiful churches torn down and broken like his promise  
I promise, I promise, I promise

I lay here alone, bleeding, broken  
like shards of coloured glass shattered across the dewy grass  
he is out there, dancing with her, dressed brightly in yellow  
as I mourn for my broken life, my broken promise.

_Forgive me Father; for I have sinned  
I have kept a promise_


	15. Faded Love

**Summary: **Henry's thoughts on Katherine of Aragon

**Pairings: **Henry/Katherine, Henry/Others, Henry/Anne, Katherine/Arthur

When she arrived fresh from Spain he was made with desire for her.

She was beautiful, intelligent, witty, and worse Arthur's. He was only eleven but he wanted her to be his. With Arthur out of the way he had thought he would have gotten a chance to show her how superior he was compared to his older brother. She was of course the perfect candidate to be Queen of England.

No one thought so and he had been kept from her until his father finally died.

When they were finally reunited he was mad for her and did everyone to show his devotion to his new wife. He entered in tournaments in her honour, he showed every affection a husband should and could, he danced with her every night, and listened to her every word.

Then the Stafford girl came along and Katherine lost their child. He doubted Katherine a little but was eager for her forgiveness. She granted it and he went out to keep on proving his love and devotion to her.

A sting of different Mistresses entered his life but none of them could compare to the grace, beauty, and wit of Katherine of Aragon.

Each loss of a child and no appearance of a son began to take the shine of her. Her lustrous locks faded, her smooth skin wrinkled, her bright eyes lost a lot of life, and now her pride and gracefulness and intelligence were no longer attractive.

He was disinterested and went through the motions of being a good husband.

Then Anne Boleyn entered the scene and she was beautiful, witty, intelligent, passionate, and best of all she was no one's. She had qualities that Katherine had that made him fall in love with her but then she had other qualities that made her better than Katherine and he was mad with lust and passion for this young woman who unlike any other woman he knew.

He looked at Katherine who he loved with so much passion and devotion and he realised something.

His love had faded. She no longer interested him, she no longer held him, she no longer did anything but pray for a son that would never be granted because she had committed the worst crime in the world.

She had been Arthur's.


	16. Perfect

**Summary: **Anne, Henry, Mary, and Kat think about how perfect Elizabeth is.

**Pairings: **Maternal Anne/Elizabeth, Kat/Elizabeth, Paternal Henry/Elizabeth, Romantically Henry/Anne, Henry/Katherine implied.

She was perfect.

She was strong. She was healthy. She had her eyes and his hair. She cried loudly as Henry shouted in a temper. She was so aware of her surroundings and she knew that she would be intelligent and bright as her and Henry.

But she was a girl and a girl is not good enough.

She was perfect.

She was strong. She was healthy. She had her eyes and his eyes. She cried like a true Tudor and she had an intelligent look about her. She was his jewel, more than that; she was his jewel in St Edward's Crown that was how precious she was to him.

But she was a girl and that is not good enough. She is a girl even though he went through hell and back to have her mother and made himself the Head of Church making himself an enemy to some of the most powerful men of Europe. All this trouble, all this fuss, all this hard work and she was a girl.

She was perfect.

After everything she went through because of Anne Boleyn and hearing how the Boleyn's will do what Katherine of Aragon never could and what Mary could never be. After being denounced as a bastard and being forced into practically poverty and yet it didn't make a difference. She was a girl.

Mary laughed delightedly and gleefully. Oh this was perfect.

She was perfect.

It did not matter that she was a girl. It did not matter that her mother was beheaded for adultery and people whispered that she was a witch. It did not matter that there was little money and she would have to budget. What mattered was that she was charming, polite, graceful, elegant, intelligent (she was learning so much everyday), beautiful, and hers.

Kat helped the Lady Elizabeth get dressed and every day she would stare at her young charge's reflection and think...

She is perfect.


	17. Passionate

**Summary: **based on the actual Tudors series now. Princess Margret has always been known to be passionate. It is perhaps the best word to describe her.

**Pairings: **Margret/Charles

"She is only passionate," her mother once said.

"Passionate," her grandmother said in a disdainful voice matched with an irritated sniff, "is another way of saying temperamental. She will need to learn how to hold her tongue or her husband will send her back to us."

She had always been termed temperamental, spoilt, beautiful, intelligent, graceful, a princess of royal blood, but her favourite had always been her mother's defence for her bad behaviour. She is only passionate.

Being the youngest Margret was somewhat spoiled there was no point in denying that. the royal nursery staff adored her, her mother was constantly tender towards her, her father always seemed to soften just a little bit when she was in the room, and her grandmother wasn't as harsh on her as she was to the boys and her almost forgotten older sister.

She was passionate in her grief for the loss of her parents and grandmother. She wore black for many months and barely ate or slept knowing that Henry was king and he was not much older than her and she still felt like a child.

She was passionate in her anger when Henry decided to marry her off to an elderly man. She threw things and hissed vile curses and swore she would stab herself before letting a man older than her own father touch her.

She was passionate in her hatred against Charles Brandon. The little boy who had stolen her doll and threw it in the pond. The arrogant young man who thought he could ask a princess to dance and treat her like a common country maid. The handsome man who had been invested as a duke just because Henry did not want to deal with her temper tantrums. He was arrogant, he was smug, he was insufferable, and he was the most handsome man she had ever known.

She was so passionate in her hatred for him that she had begun to rip his clothes off during an argument as he was kissing her with such a furious passionate lust. It was her first time and she ignored the pain in favour of all this passion.

She was passionate in her disgust for her first husband. He was so old that he creaked with every movement and he did the job so badly that she felt like someone stuck a slug in there and moved it about for a little while. She was so passionate in her disgust for him, so passionate for her Charles, so passionate in her desperation for mild English air instead of this stifling heat of Portugal, that she grabbed a cushion and passionately smothered her husband with it.

She was passionately in love with her husband but she was also passionate about being centre of the attention at Court. She was a princess and yet because of her love she is banished away to the country and her beloved husband has now taken an interest in one of the maids.

She was so passionate in her jealousy that she would rail against him and try to hurt him as he hurt her.

She was so passionate in her hatred against that whore Anne Boleyn who was a nobody and yet expected Margret, a true English princess, to bow down to her, that she was banished and forbidden to ever return to Court.

It was then she began to feel ill.

It was then when the coughing and the pains started.

It was then when she realised she would soon die.

She was so very passionate about it. She died passionately in a pool of her own blood. Blood...the colour of lust and love and anger and everything that was passionate...

She was the passionate princess.


	18. Opposites

**Summary: **Henry ponders the differences between his two most recent wives.

**Pairings: Henry/Anne Boleyn, Henry/Jane Seymour, implied Henry/others**

Henry has always been a fickle man.

One day he would love chicken more than anything and the next he despises the very sight of the animal. So it did not surprise anyone that he changed his taste in women all the time. He favoured pious sophisticated princesses like Katherine of Aragon one day and then he favoured common giggling girls like Bessie Blount the next.

It surprised him though that he could love two very different women like Anne and Jane.

Anne was dark as night. She was exotic and almost French, she was intelligent, witty, and quick to turn the worst situation to suit her. She was dressed in rich colours and fine silks, covered in jewels and men flirting with her.

Jane was light as day. She was sunny and so very English, she was uneducated, a little dull, sweet enough to make up for the lack of wit. She was dressed in fine clothes but nothing above her station as a knight's daughter. She rarely wore more than a cross round her neck and the only men Henry ever saw flocking around her was her two very overprotective brothers.

Anne was what Court life was all about. She was exciting, flashy, vibrant, beautiful, dazzling, and yet so very fake. She was all made believe. She was what a queen is imagined to be. While Jane was what country life was about. She was quiet, timid, peaceful, fresh, sweet-smelling, and beautiful in a natural way, and so very real. She was everything milk maids and village girls are imagined to be. The blushing rose while it was so difficult to get Anne to flush in anger let alone embarrassment.

Jane was so simple... so uncomplicated... so very boring he realises later. She did not make him excited and determined to have her. She did not dance and gamble and play games with him. She did nothing but pray, inquire about his health sweetly, and hideaway in her rooms like a good little wife.

Anne was difficult, complex, mysterious, so very exciting. She was his equal in many things, from mind to physical activity.

Jane was honest while Anne lied through her teeth.

Jane was faithful while Anne whored herself away.

Jane provided that promised male heir while Anne only gave him Elizabeth. (Though privately he would admit only to himself that Elizabeth was more what a male heir should be than Edward.)

Jane was in heaven while Anne most likely burned.

They were complete opposites and yet they had one in common.

They were both dead.

It was time to look for another wife. Perhaps one that was sweet and simple as Jane but as intelligent and exotic as Anne.

Well he never had a German woman before...


	19. Ugly

**Summary: **Anne of Cleves contemplates the idea she is ugly.

**Pairings: **Anne of Cleves/Henry VIII

She looked into the looking glass and felt...numb.

She had never thought highly of herself. She maybe a princess but she had never been treated as one. Her brother felt no compassion and was determined to make her submissive towards him. She would have been whipped if she thought herself beautiful.

She had to cover her face so she would not be seen as vain.

But she had never once thought herself ugly.

"_She looks like a horse...she is hideous...she smells vile...get rid of her!"_

She looked into the looking glass and saw a normal woman. She did not look ugly but she did not look beautiful. She was no beautiful Spanish Princess like Katherine of Aragon, she was not an exotic sexual being like Anne Boleyn, nor was she pretty like sweet Jane Seymour, but she did not look like a horse.

She had nice eyes, normal face, plain hair, and was considered unfashionable because of the backward ways of her German country and strict brother.

Dressed in English's finest fashions and drowned in the English crown jewels she almost felt beautiful and if it had lasted longer than three months she might have fallen into that trap of vanity.

"_If I do not satisfy the king...would he have me killed?"_

She was very fortunate. In comparison of his other wives she was certain she saw something they did not see. Yes he was temperamental, yes he was cruel at times, and yes he was the worst husband imaginable, but he was a good friend. He had been tender, he had been kind, he had looked upon his children with a loving eye and spent time with her in a way a friend would. Her platonic relationship with him was so wonderful that it hurt her when he had called her ugly.

She was to be his sister. She was to have Anne Boleyn's childhood home and a good fortune to keep her in comfort. She had been treated better that poor Katherine in poverty or beheaded Anne or pale ill Jane.

And yet his insults were haunting her.

She did not want to be ugly.

She did not want to be desirable either because that caused too much attention that was unwanted.

She looked into the looking glass and had a sudden urge to smash it.

Ugly, indeed, though there would never be anyone as ugly as vain greedy Henry. The ugly side was eating away at the good side.

Anne of Cleves may forever be remembered ugly (wrongly so, she was merely plain) but Henry VIII would be remembered as a monster.

This is a shame because underneath all that ugliness of character he was a charming loving man.

Sighing, she looked away from the looking glass, ugly, she decided, is a nasty word.


	20. Bitterness

**Summary: **Mary silently vents her hatred for Katherine Howard and begins her transformation from the beautiful young girl to Bloody Mary.

**Pairings: **Henry/Katherine Howard, Henry/Anne Boleyn, Mary/Phillip of Bavaria, implied Elizabeth/Robert Dudley if you look carefully.

She parted the sea of courtiers attempting to win favour with a small growl. She did not acknowledge a single person as she marched into the gardens and began to vent silently. How dare she?

How dare she?

Katherine Howard, that little stupid naive harlot, who had no idea what she was doing. She may be Father's recent wife that did not mean she was going to be her Stepmother for the rest of her life. Knowing these Howards, little Kitty will be beheaded in a year or so. Urgh. She never thought she would hate a stepmother more than Anne Boleyn but she was wrong.

Anne had only spoken to her once and even then it was courteous and pleasant until the final moment where she rejected Anne's offer of friendship. Anne Boleyn did have intellect, style, sophistication, and the ability to know when she has gone too far and try to retreat. She was filled with ambition and cunning and only failed because the recently deceased Master Cromwell was more ambitious and cunning than that whore ever was. Katherine Howard was simply a little girl, younger than Mary, who still plays with toys, uses a simpering voice, has no intellect – Mary was beginning to suspect that she had no education at all - , and continued to alienate people without realising it.

Katherine Howard was nothing but a pale imitation of Anne Boleyn.

Katherine Howard has yet to fall pregnant! Within their first year of marriage Anne gave Father a healthy daughter! If that did not tell you something then you must be blind.

Mary sank down on the cold bench and bit her lip viciously.

She did not want to admit that Katherine's words about her lack of a maternal life had been salt to a wound.

She wished desperately that Phillip from Bavaria had married her and that she had given birth to her son and was expecting another child. Maybe a daughter this time. Instead she was still a spinster and the woman who tried to make the match was shoved aside into Anne Boleyn's childhood home. Oh it's Anne Boleyn again! She despised that name. Ever since the Great Matter that ruined her life Anne's name was following her everywhere she went. If it had not been for that whore she would have been married to either a French prince or a member of the Hapsburg family with multiple children now.

She was filled with so much anger and bitterness that she thought she was about to drown in it.

She will have to pray for redemption and forgiveness tonight.

She was distracted momentarily from her anger by the sight of her Father walking across the gardens engrossed in a conversation with a pretty redhead.

She almost does not recognise her own sister.

Aside from the red hair Elizabeth was the splitting image of her mother and there had been many times that Mary witnessed a closed conversation between just the King and his whore in the gardens. For one split second Mary hated Elizabeth more than anything. She almost regrets it but she is filled with some jealousy.

There was no doubt that her Father did love her in his own way, she was of course his pearl, but she did not fascinate him as Elizabeth did. Elizabeth was dazzling, she was beautiful, intelligent, and knew how to turn everyone's head. She was just like Anne Boleyn even at this young tender age. Not only that, but, Elizabeth was a kinswoman to Katherine Howard and therefore a favourite of the little tart.

Mary was hated and attacked in all directions by the vapid girl but Elizabeth is welcomed with open arms and jewels thrown upon her.

Mary was jealous. She would admit that.

Elizabeth was still young and could marry and have children. There was a boy besotted with her and he would marry her tomorrow if everyone gave them permission. He would likely marry her without permission he was that besotted.

It was not to say that Mary was not pretty herself. She had been known to turn a head or two even now, Phillip was evidence of that, but she had faded away. She had passed her best years without realising it and now she sat in the gardens by herself watching her Father pay attention to the Anne Boleyn look-a-like.

She lost a little bit of herself that day as a new ice cold fire in her stomach began to consume her.

It was called bitterness


	21. Children

**Summary: **Henry thinks about his children and how badly he had treated them.

**Pairings: **implied Katherine of Aragon /Henry, Anne Boleyn/Henry, Jane Seymour/Henry, Kitty Howard/Henry, Mary/Phillip of Bavaria, parental Henry/Mary, Henry/Elizabeth, Henry/Edward, and sibling love Mary/Elizabeth/Edward.

Henry was certain he had never felt so relieved in his life.

Not when he got rid of Katherine and the shouting stopped, not when he got rid of Anne and married Jane, not when Bessie gave birth to a son when he thought it was impossible, not even when Arthur and his father died and he had been made king.

He was so relieved that he felt himself drowning in the emotion. Edward, his beloved legitimate boy, almost died but God had saved him. God still wants Edward to be king. It was a relief that no one but a father with one son and had lost sons before could understand.

He had feared that Edward would die like Prince Henry that Katherine had given birth to and Henry Fitzroy that Bessie had given birth to.

But no, thank god, Jane's son survived and that proved to the world that Jane was his rightful wife.

After he kissed his son's forehead, told him to recover quickly and that he loved him, Henry rushed off to the chapel to show God is gratitude for giving his son another chance at life. He did not expect the sight that greeted him there.

Mary had, of course, come with him because she had been in York with him when the news arrived and it was a sign of sibling love that she rushed back with him. He should have realised that she would have went straight to the chapel to pray for Edward's life.

He just did not expect to see Elizabeth there too.

Lady Bryan had said that Elizabeth was the one to discover Edward was ill. Elizabeth had been visiting and she had played games with Edward, taught him a little Latin told him stories and put him to bed instead of a maid and that was when she discovered he had a fever and alerted Lady Bryan.

In many ways he should be grateful that Elizabeth was a loving sister who had nothing but Edward's health and happiness in mind but a little part of him thought it was her fault Edward was ill.

It drives me a little mad that out of his three children it is Anne Boleyn's daughter with the best health.

He hated himself for that thought. No matter how much he resented Anne for not being satisfied with him, to flirt and encourage other men, to take them to her bed, he could never resent Elizabeth. He thought he could, once, he ignored her and did not send money for her and did not read the letters from Lady Bryan complaining about how Elizabeth had no clothes that fit her.

Jane changed that.

Just like she changed his relationship with Mary.

He had neglected Mary. He had ignored her pleas, taken her away from her dying mother, made her a servant to Elizabeth, ignored her illnesses, and sent threats of death if she did not obey his orders.

Jane had brought his two daughters back to him that Christmas and he could not stop that niggling feeling of guilt in the back of his mind.

Mary was his pearl. She was beautiful, intelligent, elegant, and pious. She was the perfect virtuous woman and she resembled him far too much for him to deny she was his. He was pleased to see how she had grown to be the perfect lady. How she did hold onto that bitter resentment. He felt guilty that she was at the peak of child bearing age and he still had not married her to someone. But who could he give his pearl to? No royal house would take her because she is a bastard, no English lord could be trusted because he might have ambitions for the throne, and his beloved new sister Anne's cousin could not marry Mary because Henry feared he too would have ambitions to be king.

After all if the German princess was to be put aside for a little girl and was no longer called queen what wouldn't the Germans do to put their prince onto the English throne to replace her?

Then there was Elizabeth. He could not help but adore his little Elizabeth. She was his jewel, she was different from Mary in many ways, she was beautiful and intelligent like Mary but she was...she was different. She sparkled. She was vibrant, noticeable, charming, witty, was centre of the attention. She was literally the brightest jewel in all of England. She was her mother's daughter. Anne had been vibrant and sparkling before he had her beheaded. She looked like Anne, moved like Anne, dressed like Anne, but she did not speak like Anne. She spoke like a scholar, an obedient one. Her red hair was evidence that she was his. She had his mother's hair and he remembered how he longed to touch it as a tiny boy.

They could have been the greatest queens in Europe and instead they were simply bastard children praying for their legitimate brother to survive.

He did not know Edward. He loved his son, thought him to be beautiful in a masculine way, intelligent as he should be, but he did not speak with Edward enough to have a full grasp of his son's person. He did not want to risk Edward's health. All he could say was Edward, like Elizabeth, was the image of his mother. Blonde, pale, blue eyes, angelic looking, that was all he could say.

He cleared his throat loudly causing his daughters to jump. He ignored the memories rising of Cromwell and Wolsey informing him of Katherine and Anne praying for his health the many times he had fallen ill or been injured. "My daughters, give thanks to God, your brother has made it through the worse and is on the road of recovery," he said.

"Oh thank God!" Mary almost collapsed in relieve. If it had not been for Elizabeth holding onto her she might have.

"How soon till he is recovered?" Elizabeth asked.

She looked like she had been crying. Her eyes were rimmed with redness and her nose was equally red as if she had been rubbing it raw.

"I do not know. I advise you two to return to your homes and rest. You are both looking far too pale and I do not want you two to fall ill either."

They murmured their answers and curtsied before him. He kissed their foreheads and then sent them off their way before making to back to Edward's rooms. He did not want to dwell on the idea of Mary being bedridden with another illness like so many times before or Elizabeth looking pale and feverish. The idea did not appeal to him.

He had been a dreadful father in many ways. He had always sworn he would not be like his father – cold, uncaring, never approving...but he had not been so much better. He had blamed their mother's sins on them, he did not speak to them often enough, he did not know them...

He had to take comfort in that his children loved one another enough to make up for the lack of love they have from their parents.

He frowned. It should not be like that at all. They should have a loving caring mother and a father who adored them. They deserved it. He could give them his love and try to make amends but nothing could replace that hole that pious strict Katherine, vibrant warm Anne, and sweet tender Jane had left in their children.

Silly innocent Kitty was a child herself.

He sat by his son's bedside and tries to suppress the sudden urge to hurt himself. He was a Christian prince. He was doing his duty to his country. He was a good man.

The mantra was not working as well as it used to when he was divorcing Katherine.

_Pass me that lovely little gun  
My dear, my darling one  
The cleaners are coming, one by one  
You don't even want to let them start_

They are knocking now upon your door  
They measure the room, they know the score  
They're mopping up the butcher's floor  
Of your broken little hearts

O children

Forgive us now for what we've done  
It started out as a bit of fun  
Here, take these before we run away  
The keys to the gulag

O children  
Lift up your voice, lift up your voice  
Children  
Rejoice, rejoice

O'Children by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds


	22. Fool

**Summary: **Henry thinks of the betrayal of Katherine Howard.

**Pairings: **Henry/Kitty/Katherine of Aragon/Anne Boleyn/Jane Seymour/Anne of Cleves/Bessie Blount/others, Kitty/Thomas Culpepper/others implied.

He had been tricked.

Again.

By another Howard woman.

Bitterness, anger, hatred, and all those terrible feelings rise as he curses himself for being such a fool. As if a young girl like Kitty Howard would truly be in love with an old man like him. He had gained far too much weight, greyed far too much for his liking, and could barely move with ease as he once did. His leg stank and he could not satisfy a woman properly as he once did.

A pretty young girl with many men flocking around her, flattering her, flirting with her, well...it was no wonder she went for Culpepper and all those other ones. He had been a fool to think that someone could love him for him. It is only the crown they see. Just like Anne. All she saw was being queen and keeping the title, she never really loved him.

Though he desperately wished that was not true. That Kitty loved him. That they all loved him but he doubts it. He thinks the only wife to love him only ever loved him as a sibling or a child.

He had been a fool. But then so had she, thinking she could get away with it, get with child and pass it off as his own.

Now with a clear mind that was not clouded with lust he can see what a silly girl she truly was. Kitty Howard was a child. She played with toys, she made crude jokes, she could barely write let alone speak, read, write multiple languages and hold philosophical or political discussions like his four other wives. She did not understand her own body. Young as she is it is natural to miss a course under some form of stress – she simply thought she was with child and gotten his hopes up for no reason.

He was a fool to think there would be a Prince Henry, Duke of York or a Princess Margret to marry off to a royal house and form an alliance.

She was a simply just a fool. A fool that liked to dance in the rain like a wild child or a woman drenched in witchcraft, a fool that did not understand public opinion and how it favoured Mary the most, a fool that was petty and held childish grudges against his own children, a fool who thought he was having an affair when he was simply ill.

To think he was in love with this silly little fool.

More fool him.

We are all fools in love, someone had once said. Well then, he was a fool several times over – a fool for Katherine of Aragon, a fool for Anne Boleyn, a fool for Jane Seymour, a fool for the idea of Anne of Cleves, a fool for Bessie, a fool in general.

Forget his fool who makes jokes and cause laughter; he could do the task by simply being in love.

He was a fool. There was no doubt about that.

But so was she.

He would pay for his foolishness by losing another wife. She would pay by losing her head.


	23. Mothers

**Summary: **Mary, Elizabeth, and Edward consider the mothers they know and their new one Katherine Parr.

**Pairings: **implied Henry/all six wives, and implied Mary/Philip of Bavaria

Mary sighs when she hears the news and she cannot stop the thought, _good god not another one_, when the messenger announces His Royal Highness King Henry is to be married to Katherine Parr.

She thinks about all of her 'mothers' and she uses that word loosely because to her the only mother there was, was Katherine of Aragon. Her very own mother who brought her into the world. Her mother had been pious, loving, sensible, and classically beautiful despite her age, wise, intelligent, witty, tender, strong, determined, and a true princess of the blood. Everything a mother, wife, and Queen should be.

Her first stepmother, that harlot Anne Boleyn, was nothing in comparison of her mother. She may have a mind but it was filled with vile ambition, she may be pretty to men but she was nothing in the eyes of a woman, she had no true religious values, and was cruel beyond belief. She was not the mothering type, merely the type to lavish presents on her own child and barely touch said child. The second stepmother was an improvement but was more of a friend than a mother. Jane Seymour was sweet, polite, and friendly but that was all Mary could really say about her. She was dull in comparison of Anne who could at least keep Mary properly informed of politics and new opinions if she had wished to. Anne of Cleves, the third stepmother, was warm and civilised. If it had not been for the hurried divorce, her Luther beliefs, and the heartbreak Mary suffered during that time, then Mary may have grown to see her as another mother. Katherine Howard was no stepmother and Mary dare not even think of her without revulsion.

She watches this new wife of her father and she can like this one. Katherine Parr in many ways was similar to her own mother. She could finally have a mother once more...if only Katherine Parr did not support the Lutheran cause.

Elizabeth has seen Katherine Parr as a loving, charming, and caring towards her. The woman who arranged her lessons with Edward, who spoke to her as if she was an adult, and held her when she cried over something her father, had said. She was the mother Elizabeth had craved.

She did not know Katherine of Aragon but Mary had insisted she is a good woman and would have cared for Elizabeth (Elizabeth did not believe that because it had been her own mother that took Father away from Katherine of Aragon). Her own mother was a vague memory of perfume, silk, and beauty. Jane Seymour had only been a smiling face to her. Aunt Anne was never a mother simply a kind relative who wrote regularly, sent gifts, offered invitations, and gave the much needed hug then and there. Katherine Howard was far too young, giggly, and silly to be a mother and the only impact she had on Elizabeth was the oath to never marry.

So Katherine Parr was really the only mother Elizabeth has known.

(but then from the corner of her eye she sees Kat standing against the back wall in the Queens rooms and Kat had always been constant in her affections, had always tended to Elizabeth's needs, had always cared for her...and she wonders if it is really Kat who was the mother she wanted.)

Edward does not know his father's first three wives including his own mother. He had always imagined his mother to be the kindest, fairest, prettiest lady in all of England. He heard that his father had once been married to Aunt Anne but he could not remember that time and always thought Aunt Anne as a caring relative. She always sent him little treats and encouragements. He had heard about Katherine Howard and remembered meeting her but he had never thought about her. She was vacant and non-existent to him.

But his father's new wife Katherine Parr was the mother he had always thought about. She was the kindest, fairest, prettiest lady in all of England. She was often visiting him with his father and offering encouragement and praise. She was often listening to him, watching him, holding him as if he was her son. She the epitome of motherhood and he adored her.

So in no more than a year after his father died he wept when he heard of Katherine Parr's death.


	24. Monster

**Summary: **Charles Brandon – a Tudor by marriage – considers the real monster of Henry's reign.

**Pairings: **implied Henry/Katherine of Aragon/Anne Boleyn, and Charles/Margret

It was not until he was near death when he realised it.

Katherine of Aragon had been subjected to the same monster as Cardinal Wolsey, Bishop Fisher, and Thomas More...and it was not Anne Boleyn for she had been subjected to the same monster. So had Anne of Cleves, Thomas Cromwell, and so many others.

This monster had whispered evils against the innocent Anne Boleyn (because she had been watched by everyone and no had really seen anything sexual in her friendships), the monster had urged Henry in throwing Katherine away (though eventually Henry would have done it) and only regretted it when it began to hate Anne, and the monster meddled in everything that was political (getting rid of Thomas after Thomas).

This monster was sick and twisted.

This monster was selfish and uncaring.

The monster was changeable and disgusting.

This monster was unable to truly love. It preferred lust, ambition, and wealth.

This monster was in all of the shadows.

It is hidden in the most innocent of people and then it shows itself.

He thinks of beautiful Margret, her passion, her bright mind, her fiery temper...and how the monster destroyed it because he was bored. He thinks of wise, elegant, pious Queen Katherine and how the monster pulled her down from her throne and into poverty. He thinks of kind, shrewd, cunning Wolsey and how the monster drove him into suicide. He thinks of generous, humanist Thomas More and strong, stubborn, brave Bishop Fisher and how the monster chopped their heads off. He think of sexy, intelligent, sly Anne Boleyn and how she really loved Henry, her daughter, and her siblings...she was torn down, ruined forever, and beheaded by the monster. Thomas Cromwell, an intelligent, shrewd man torn to pieces by the axe. Lovely, sweet, smiling Anne who is now forever lonely because the monster wanted to get rid of Cromwell.

So many names.

So many lives ruined.

This evil monster filled with sinful feelings especially envy was striking out left, right, centre, destroying everyone in its way.

This monster was called Charles Brandon.


	25. Dreams and Reality

**Summary: **as Henry dies he ponders on his faults, the reality of the world, and his dreams and what could have been.

**Pairings: **Henry/all six wives, Katherine/Arthur, Katherine Parr/Thomas Seymour, Charles/Margret, Katherine Howard/Thomas Culpepper, Anne/George/Henry Norris/ Thomas Wyatt/Mark Smeaton, mother/children.

He has become too old.

He can no longer care about sons and heirs. He had heard Mary maliciously tell his sweet Kate that he will divorce her because she is not with child. He did not care about that anymore. He loved Kate deeply, it wasn't romantic or brotherly love but more of a deep attachment to a friend, and the wounds of his other wives have made it unbearable to think of sons. He no longer cared if his wife was barren or pregnant with a whole little. He no longer cared if she was catholic or protestant either. All he cared about was that she remained loyal until he died.

He has always been careless.

He never cared for finances and now his son will inherit a bankrupted country. He never cared for politics and now his son shall inherit a country ridden manipulative lords and knights. He never cared for religion when it didn't suit his needs and now his son shall inherit a country divided.

His first crime in life was always that he did not care.

He was always jealous.

He envied his dear friend Wolsey who was like a father to him. He envied him for his wealth and beautiful home Hampton Court, he envied his influence and hated it when it was not enough, he envied his shrewd mind and envied at how it run the palace and country with ease. He envied Thomas More for his sons and daughters and kindness and principals. He envied Bishop Fisher for having so much bravery. He envied Cromwell for his shrewd mind and manipulative ways – everything his father and grandmother was.

He was jealous of whom his wives loved. Katherine loved the church and her Spanish relations and possibly Arthur more than him. Anne had sexual intercourse with Wyatt, Norris, Smeaton, and her own brother, her heart devoted to the French course and their daughter. Jane loved Mary, the imperial alliance, the church, her brother more than him. Anne of Cleves loved her home and English fashions and his children more than him. Katherine Howard wanted to be Mistress Culpepper. Katherine Parr watches Thomas Seymour with hungry eyes.

He hates how his daughters love their mothers more than him. He hates that Edward is closer to Katherine and his uncles than him. He hates that Mary preferred to be a dutiful wife than a dutiful daughter. He hates that Elizabeth clings to her governess and her household staff more than him. He hates that Edward prefers his tutor and companions to him.

But most of all, the one person who he was always jealous of, who he hated the most...

...Was his brother Arthur.

He was prideful.

He would never admit he was wrong. He would never admit that it was his choice to marry Katherine – no he was forced to, she manipulated him, he was innocent – just as he would never admit he chose to rid off her – it was Anne whispering in my ear, it was God nudging my conscience, it was my confessor. It is endless on how many things he refuses to admit.

He would never accept a bruise on his pride. Francis defeats him in a wrestling match then France shall never have his alliance or daughter as a queen. Mary will not obey him. Then she shall be a servant to Elizabeth, have poor clothing, and no husband. Charles and Margret marry in secret. Then they shall live in debt and in the countryside resenting one another.

His pride and ego were more important than his family and friends.

He was a glutton.

He loved his food. Rich food. Sweet food. Any food that was not rotten or tastes dreadful. He wanted pies, meat, cake, anything. It is no wonder his wives began to find him repulsive as he began to grow wider and wider each passing year.

He was a pig.

There is so many crimes that he could think of. Crimes that he had committed to his wives, to his daughters, to his friends, to his sister, to his father's memory, and more importantly to himself and his kingdom.

That was the cold hard reality of it all.

He dreams now.

He is dying and he knows it so he focuses on a dream world. Each day he imagines how things could have been different if this happened or that didn't happen.

One day he dreamt about his seven children with Katherine surviving. He reckoned three sons – Henry Prince of Wales, Edward Duke of York, and Ferdinand duke of Clarence – and four daughters – Katherine, Isabella, Elizabeth and his precious pearl Mary – and how happy they all are. The many grandchildren they shall produce. The peaceful nation. The Catholic Church still present. It is a utopia of some sort.

Another he dreams of Anne. If those two children survived and more were to come. For some reason he dreams of his jewel Elizabeth having a sister first – Eleanor- and then an Edward, and then maybe an Edmund and so on. An E family for some godforsaken reason (he is dying so he has right to be a little insane). He dreams of beautiful passionate Anne only looking at him and their passionate lovemaking going on to the very last minute of his life. He would die in her arms against her naked bosom and be the happiest man in the world.

He rarely dreams of Jane because he cannot see her being more precious than that moment when she gives him Edward. Perhaps a little girl also called Jane. And then maybe another boy and then two or three more children. He can see her sweet smile as she holds each and every one of them. But he cannot imagine a life with her like Katherine or a sexual bliss like Anne. Just never-ending sweet.

How much would change if he never married Anne or Jane or Anne of Cleves or Katherine Howard or Katherine Parr.

He dreams he is the second brother still. Archbishop of York with his secret mistress the Lady Anne Boleyn. Katherine and Arthur rule peacefully with their many children. Margret is laughing and resting her head against Charles, Mary has returned from Scotland for a visit and presents the future king of Scotland, their mother is still alive and happy, their other siblings – Edmund, Elizabeth, and Katherine – were alive and beautiful and healthy and living wonderful lives.

He dreams that his name is immortal throughout history for good reasons and not bad.

But unfortunately cold reality proves otherwise.

He dies seeing cold glares of reality instead of soft smiles of dreams.


	26. Welcome to Heaven Part 1

**Summary: **Henry arrives at heaven to find the worst punishment imaginable.

**Pairings: **Henry/Katherine/Anne/Jane/Kitty, implied Katherine/Arthur, implied wives/others.

"Hello Henry."

It took all of Henry's will power to not scream like a little girl and then cry. There sitting primly with all the grace in the world was Katherine, Anne, Jane, and Kitty. They all looked down at him as if he was mud on their hems.

"I think we broke him," Kitty said cheerfully.

"Or merely surprised him," Katherine corrected her gently, "he is about to speak."

"I...err...ah...erm...guh...eek!"

"I stand corrected," Katherine said raising an elegant eyebrow. "Dear me, Henry, you were never this tongue-tied before."

"He was," Anne said, "every time he tried to make up an excuse that he didn't practise in the looking glass before."

"Shouldn't you be in hell?" Henry asked glaring at the wife he began to resent a little.

"I was innocent," Anne said without flinching.

"She wasn't!" Henry said pointing to Kitty.

"Ah but she was a child and children often do naughty things," Jane said fondly as she gave Kitty a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. "It was your fault for neglecting her anyway."

"Jane...even you?"

The women suddenly burst out in a terrifying hysterical laughter. It was a cackle of witches before him, not composed Katherine, beautiful Anne, lovely Jane, and pretty Kitty. Henry shuddered.

"The only person who has truly forgiven you is Thomas More," Anne informed him, "he has forgiven me too for 'enticing you' I believe was his exact words."

"Thomas is the only person who has forgiven me?"

"Well Charles Brandon is too busy punishing himself, your sisters are angry as hell with you, your brother is furious in how you treated Katherine, your father is angry that you married Katherine despite what he told you and then destroyed the kingdom he put together, your mother is disappointed in how you treated all of your wives and children, your grandmother refuses to even speak your name, Wolsey is still hurt you chose me over him, none of your friends you had beheaded forgives you – especially Norris he is hurt you would think he'd do such a thing to you, and then of course do you really think _we're _going to forgive you?"

He looked at Katherine's expressionless mask, Jane's cold anger, Kitty's sulking posture, and Anne's blazing furious eyes.

It would be a cold day in hell before any of these four will forgive him.

If he had been as terrible as they all made him out to be then why was he in heaven instead of hell?

"God thought it would be more of a punishment if you were confronted by those who you wronged instead of leaving you in Lucifer's hands," Kitty said suddenly.

Oh...he must have asked the question out loud.

"That and we're fairly certain your grandmother truly does have God's ear," Katherine muttered darkly.

She never did get on with his grandmother.

"I suppose you can join us," Jane said changing the topic – perhaps none of his wives get on with his grandmother. "We were just about to eat."

Sitting himself at the furthest end of the table away from all four dead wives Henry eyed the delicious roasted meat with hunger. Last thing he had eaten was disgusting gruel as he barely had the strength to feed himself.

"Now back to the discussion at hand," Katherine said with authority.

"Yes!" Kitty said excitedly. "I do wish to make my complaints known that Henry Tudor was the worst lover I have ever had."

Henry choked on his dinner when his three other wives agreed.

Oh hell...it would have been so much kinder than this torture.


	27. Dirty

**Summary: **Elizabeth is struggling with the sexual advances from Thomas Seymour

**Pairings: **one-sided Thomas/Elizabeth.

The water was boiling hot.

It was not hot enough to erase the feel of his fingers brushing against her side, the feel of his lips upon hers, the feel of his legs in between hers...

There was plenty of soap.

There was no soap strong enough to erase his scent, the disgusting smell of his arousal, the even more revolting smell of his sweat and cum.

There was no one but her.

As usual. After all where was her stepmother when he cut her black dress into pieces? Where was her governess when he snuck into her chamber at night? Where were her brother, the king, and her older wise and fierce sister when the man began to molest her?

Where were her mother and father? Her powerful noble uncles?

There is no one but her,

Dunking her head under the hot water she pulled at her hair and scrubbed fiercely at her face. He had stroked her hair and called it the most beautiful mane in England, he had cupped her face lovingly, he had kissed her lips, and he had rested his forehead against hers...

There was nothing sacred and untouched left.

She scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed. She kept scrubbing until she felt her skin ache and little drops of blood swirling into the hot water.

She was still too dirty.

She was the whore everyone predicted her to be.

No one will care that she never invited him, never enjoyed his advances, and never understood what was going on...

No one cares...she's just a dirty whore.

She felt something rise in her throat and she choked out a cry as hot tears rolled down her sore cheeks.

She will never be clean again.

She shall always be dirty.


	28. Lost Boy

**Summary: **Edward thinks about being king and how lost he has become.

**Pairings: **implied Henry/Katherine Parr/Jane Seymour, implied Tom Seymour/Katherine Parr, implied Tom Seymour/Elizabeth, implied Edward/Jane Grey

His clothes were too big and overwhelming, his crown keeps slipping, and he feels too small in his throne.

He is the boy king like Henry III, Edward III, Edward V, and Henry VI before him.

He thinks about his great big father who was huge in life with so much spirit, passion, and temper, and he knows he cannot compete with such a man. He is a little boy who still misses his governess. He had not seen Lady Bryan for years now and yet he thinks of her stern kindness and craves her small affectionate smile.

He is a little boy lost in a world of lords, councils, religious policy, and war.

The people he loves most is taken away from him.

His true mother died long before he was aware of life. His powerful father and protector is dead and will no longer protect him as he once did. His beloved step-mother whom he has not seen for many months is sad – the scandal of his sister and uncle has caused her heartbreak and there is nothing he can do to change it. He loves his step-mother she has always been the closest thing he had to a mother. He loves her warm smiles and embraces and misses them more than anything. His fun uncle is stuck in a scandal and before then his other uncle would not let him near the amiable Tom Seymour. His eldest sister, Mary, has not spoken to him since their argument over religious policy – he thinks of her soft embraces, soft stern words, and fierce love for him and he misses her even more despite her Catholic beliefs. His other sister, Elizabeth, is ill and slandered across the country. His beautiful fiery sister who believes he shall be a great king...oh how he is sure she is disappointed in him...

And then there is Jane.

Little Jane Grey.

He misses her too.

All his loved ones are gone. His Uncle Edward is cold and business-like, his aunt and cousins are strangers to him, and he has very few friends.

He has always been solemn and true to the Reformed cause but that does not mean he is emotionless.

He wishes for simple clothes, no crown, and a small stool to sit on. He wishes for his two sisters to sit either side of him as they debate religion and theology. Both of them are highly intelligent for women. He wishes for his father to laugh heartily at one of his step-mother's little jokes and he wishes that they were a simple knight family instead of royalty.

But they are not.

He is a king in a big empty room, with a crown that does not fit him, and clothes so rich and big that they overwhelm him.

He is king.

But not really.

He does not feel kingly.

He feels like a little boy.

A little lost boy in too big, too rich clothes, a crown that does not fit, sitting in a big throne in a big empty room.

Poor little lost boy.


	29. Unnatural Child

**Summary: **Edward thinks about the whispers of his people after his uncle Edward is beheaded.

**Pairings: **very tiny possible Edward/Mary Queen of Scots, sibling Edward/Mary/Elizabeth, and slight hint to Thomas Seymour/Elizabeth

"Is it not unnatural for the King to behead his uncles? Not even the Old King executed close relatives..."

There are whispers throughout Court, throughout London, throughout the whole country, and the whole world.

Is Edward VI not unnatural?

He is an unnatural child.

He is too quiet for a child. He is too solemn for a child. He is too zealous for a child. He is too bloodthirsty for a child.

Thomas Seymour was beheaded for Treason. He had attempted to kill Edward, marry Elizabeth, and overthrow Mary's place in the succession to the throne. He had to be beheaded. It was the law. It was what was right.

Edward is not sure what the uncle he had been named after had done. Many bad things happened during his uncle's reign as Lord Protector. There had been wars, riots, rebels, economic problems...the list is endless, and the change in government was needed. But what exactly did Uncle Edward do to cause execution?

John will not tell him.

No one realises that Edward only signs his name to documents he does not read because he has no say in them. He may be king but it is in name only. He is too young. He is too sickly. He is too unfit to rule.

It will be too late for him to correct his earlier years on the throne when he comes to full power.

His uncles are dead. Tom who would smile winningly and give money and Edward who would squeeze his shoulder affectionately. His sisters are so far away, Mary in her Catholic beliefs, and Elizabeth in shame. His country is in ruin. It was all too late.

And then no matter what he does as a man – when he turns England into a true country of the Reformed faith, boosts the economy with new French and Scottish lands, marry the Scottish Queen and rule over a united Britain, and produces many heirs...it shall never be enough.

He shall always be remembered as an unnatural child.

And perhaps he is.

After all he did not refuse to sign those death warrants.


	30. Wishful Thinking

**Summary: **Edward lies there dying and he thinks about the many things he wished to come true. Inspired by the Lady Jane Grey film and Innocent Traitor by Alison Weir.

**Pairings: **Edward/Jane, sort of Edward/Mary Queen of Scots, sibling love Edward/Mary/Elizabeth, a little Jane/Guilford.

As his time was coming to the end he was plagued with wishful thinking.

The 'what could be' would never stop plaguing him. He imagined his many birthdays, Christmases, epic wars, successfully converting the country to the Reformed faith, strengthening the economy, marrying Jane Grey...

They were only friends and barely that. When he was a young boy he had thought the only girl worth knowing was Elizabeth (she played with the boys and was intelligent unlike most of her gender) but then the only girl he knew was Elizabeth. For a time. The Greys were the only grandchildren of his aunt Margret who died years before he was born and therefore it was an honour to have them at Court.

Jane was close to his age and therefore the one he spent most of his time with. She was small, quiet, meek, and serious. She understood philosophy, religion, and theology as well as Elizabeth did. Her mind intrigued him and he enjoyed discussing many topics with her.

They were only friends.

Then as they reached the beginning of marriageable age he had began to notice her. She was taller, she was beginning to curve in the right places, she had a pretty smile, and she moved almost gracefully as Elizabeth, she was a woman.

He knew he was to marry Mary, the Queen of Scots, and unite Britain under one crown as his father had wished. But Mary was a Catholic and there had been reports that she is a vain flighty thing, she was also promised to the Dauphin and residing in France. She was unreachable and becoming increasingly unwanted by Edward.

Jane was there in plain sight. She was the heiress to the Duke of Suffolk, she had a claim to the English throne, she was serious and cared little for appearance, and she was a Protestant.

They did not always discuss religion and theology. Sometimes they sat beside each other on the ground like little children or the poor and play games as they tried to recapture their long lost childhood.

He tries to ignore the bruises that peep out from the back of her gown. If it was possible he would have her awful mother in the Tower for abusing someone as perfect as Jane. Alas it could not be possible.

He was dying.

He had little power.

No parent would allow a law forbidding them from punishing their own child.

But he wishes it so.

His wishful thinking creates a beautiful illusion of Jane smiling at with in gratitude as he locks away her mother and sweeps her off into a powerful rich position as his queen. He pictures his sisters' happy faces at his wedding and the closeness they would have with Jane. He imagines Mary letting go of that papacy nonsense and returning to him as an obedient loving sister assisting his Jane in the ways of the Court. He pictures his sons and daughters with Jane's eyes and his looks. He sees a long Tudor Dynasty and history praising the good behaviour of King Edward VI and his wife Queen Jane.

But it will not happen.

He feels like crying bitterly as he encourages Jane to marry John's youngest son. Guilford will take care of her. She will live a happy life as the future Duchess of Suffolk with many children and the security of wealth. She will age to an old age and die in her sleep.

While he will cough up blood and be in pain and agony to the very end. He shall suffer not just physically but emotionally and mentally.

He lays there in his bed and wishes he could have a full long life with his beloved Jane and his wonderful sisters.

He sees how miserable Jane is at her wedding. He wishes he could make her happy, he wishes that he could change the circumstances; he wishes that Guilford Dudley will be a good husband...he wishes...he wishes...

There is nothing he can do.

When John informs him that Mary would return England to Rome and Elizabeth is too scandalous to be Queen Edward tries to ignore him. He knows his sisters, they are Henry VIII's daughters, they are strong, intelligent, good women...but...but John does make a point. And if he cannot make Jane his queen, he can still make her Queen.

So he signs the will and lays there miserably waiting for death to come take him away.

He just wishes that his three important women – Jane, Elizabeth and Mary – will be happy and accept his choice of successor.

Wishful thinking though crumbles under the cold reality of truth.


	31. Welcome to Heaven Part 2

**Summary: **Edward arrives in heaven to meet his other stepmothers, his own mother, and to see the torment his father is being put through. Slightly comical.

**Pairings: **Henry/Katherine of Aragon/Anne/Jane/Kitty/Katherine Parr, implied Katherine Parr/Thomas Seymour, one-sided Thomas Seymour/Elizabeth, and slight Henry/Bessie Blount if you look really, really hard.

The first person he saw was his step-mother.

"You're Majesty!" he cried. He flew into her arms and held her as he let out a little sob. He suddenly felt unburdened and really just wanted to cry. "I missed you!"

"Oh I missed you too, Edward," Katherine Parr replied. She pulled away and looked at him admiringly. "You have gotten taller," she said smiling, "I have someone you must meet," she pulled him towards a table where many people were arguing. They all stopped when they saw him.

"Oh god no," his father whispered.

"Edward, I would like to introduce you to your mother, Jane Seymour," Katherine said indicating towards a beautiful ethereal blonde woman. She was everything his father said she was.

"Oh my poor little boy," Jane whispered as she embraced him.

He cried some more. So happy and pleased to finally be with his mother who he had thought about often. "I am sorry," he cried out, "I am sorry that I have taken your life and that I have sentenced Uncle Edward and Uncle Tom to death. Where are they? I wish to make amends."

"Oh sweeting," his mother cried out, "you have nothing to make amends for in my account. I did what any mother does. As for Uncle Edward he forgives you and is spending time with my father. You shall meet them all later. As for Uncle Tom though..."

His mother looked pained and reluctant to tell him what happened to cheerful Uncle Tom.

"He's in hell rotting," a dark haired woman said spitefully, "and that's the only reason why I haven't strangled him yet."

His stepmother looked distressed while the other dark haired woman and Kitty who he vaguely remembered were nodding in agreement with the first dark haired woman.

"Anne, please, don't," his mother begged. He realised that the woman who had spoken looked remarkably like Elizabeth. She was Anne Boleyn. The mother of Elizabeth and traitor to his father...but then...if she was here and Uncle Tom wasn't then it was obvious she was good and not bad... "I am sorry Edward," his mother said looking distraught, "child molesters are not allowed in heaven."

He flinched at the implication and felt a flood of dread and pain for his sister.

"Sit down dear," the other dark-haired woman said, he concluded that she must be Mary's mother; she had Mary's eyes and sounded very Spanish. "We shall introduce you to Henry Fitzroy and my Henry soon. They are your father's sons who did not live in this world for very long. Unfortunately miscarried children or stillborns are lost souls and therefore you cannot meet you seven other siblings." Everyone looked sad and his father flinched. "Your uncle and aunts on your father's side are busy but they shall join us soon enough so will your grandparents and great-grandparents. They are merely not speaking to your father just now."

"Or to each other," Kitty giggled.

"Kitty, it is not an amusing situation," Mary's mother scolded softly.

"Now then Edward," Elizabeth's mother said grinning at him. He was reminded so much of Elizabeth when she was up to something naughty. "Would you like to contribute to our discussion on how fat your father has become?"

There was a loud groan at the end of the table where his father sat.

The women giggled evilly.

Edward wondered if had just escaped a great evil by dying before marriage.


	32. Stand My Ground

**Summary: **Jane Grey think about her lack of backbone and finally manages to stand up for something she believes in. Lyrics from Within Temptation's Stand My Ground.

**Pairings: **implied Jane/Edward, Thomas Seymour/Elizabeth, and very little Guilford/Jane.

Jane Grey is meek.

That is what they say about her. "Oh the Lady Jane Grey, she is a very meek girl, very obedient," and then they forget about her. Just as they forget she has sisters. The Greys maybe heirs to the throne through the Princess Margret but they were non-existent in comparison to the actual Tudor family and their many friends, allies, and enemies. So if one person does recognise the small girl they merely comment that she is meek.

They were right.

She was a very quiet meek girl.

She never disobeyed.

Though she had her moments. Those moments when she stood up and refused to do something. Where she was stubborn as her Great Uncle, the King and caused her mother to turn red in fury. Those moments do not last. They are very rare. It has been so long since she had a chance to be a strong defiant woman like her cousin Elizabeth.

She remained this quiet meek girl when they sent her away in the care of Thomas Seymour. She did not say a word when she observed her cousin being herded into the corner and harassed by Thomas Seymour. She did not stand by the Queen when her heart had been broken. She did not insist on her own household when her parents took her back. She did not argue against her scheming parents and Thomas Seymour when they discussed marrying her to Edward. She remained this quiet meek girl who studied.

She laid there for her mother to beat her. She did not speak to her soft-hearted father who might have interceded on her behalf. In fact she has never truly had a conversation with her parents. The closest she has ever known had been her nurse and the Queen who is now cold in the ground. She remains the little girl who follows her cold distant parent's orders to the letter.

She refuses to get married.

The next morning she could not get out of bed because she was so badly beaten. It takes months for the bruises to disappear.

She does not run away or plead with the King, her good friend and beloved cousin Edward, she does not find alternative living arrangements with her other cousins, she does not send her soul to hell by committing suicide to escape this arrangement. She just stands there stiffly as a strange man holds her hand and swears to be a loyal loving husband to her.

She tries to stand up to his strange husband of hers.

She ends up pinned to the bed as he has his way with her.

She cannot bring herself to do anything against those who are plotting against her. She allows the Duke, her father in law, to lead her down the aisle and onto the throne. She allows a crown to be placed upon her head and she allows the councillors go on with their business as she sits in her chambers crying. She does nothing but read, sew, and obey like a good little wife, daughter, and girl.

Mary takes her rightful place and Jane happily stands down.

She happily lives in the Tower of London with her books.

She happily stays away from her husband and never conceives a child.

She's happy.

Then her fool of her father tried to rebel against Mary. They tried to put her on the throne again. Everything began to change. They tested her for pregnancy, they discussed religion with her, she was moved about, and she was put on trial...

Then Mary's council came to visit her.

She had a choice.

Convert to Rome and be allowed to live in peace or remain a 'heretic' Protestant and die.

Die or give up her beliefs.

There was no one to make her choice – well that is not true, everyone was encouraging her to convert.

She could not do that.

She had been taught by her teachers, her loving queen, her strong cousin Elizabeth, her wonderful Edward to be a good girl of the Reformed faith. They were all so strong. People like Anne Askew had died for the faith. Queen Katherine Parr stood her ground against the raging King Henry VIII for her faith. Elizabeth who danced circles round those lords and bishops to keep her faith. Edward who stood strong and stubborn against his Catholic subjects.

She chose to die.

It was her own choice.

She stood there on the scaffold and she smiled serenely. She had finally stood up to someone. She had finally made a stand for herself. She was finally a woman.

She knelt on the ground and rested her head against the block.

She thought about Edward and how proud he must be that she stood her ground for their beliefs.

She gave no thought to the pools of blood around her that belonged to her husband.

_Stand my ground, I won't give in  
No more denying, I've got to face it  
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside  
If I don't make it, someone else will  
Stand my ground_


	33. A Beloved Saint

**Summary: **Mary only ever wanted to be loved by the people like her mother was.

**Pairings: **implied Katherine of Aragon/Henry/Anne Boleyn, hint of Mary/Philip of Bavaria, mentions of Mary/Philip of Spain, and parental Katherine/Mary.

Mary had always aspired to be like her mother.

Queen Katherine a daughter of true royal blood. A woman who is willing to put on armour and ride out into battle while her husband is away. A woman who is willing to stand down and be the docile wife as she is commanded. A woman with high intelligence and skilled in manipulating her husband into doing what she wishes (when said husband is not taken in by a harlot). A woman with such dignity that she can suffer poverty and the abuse in order to stand up in what she believes is right. A woman with a beauty that is not apparent because it is a beauty on the inside. A woman of true piety and devotion to the right religion.

Katherine of Aragon was almost a saint in the common people's eyes – a most beloved saint.

Mary wishes to be exactly like her mother.

She had succeeded so far. She was considered a martyr with her suffering through her younger years when she was taken from her mother, stripped from her rightful title, forced to be a servant to her sister, threatened by great brutes that call themselves gentlemen and knights, and lost out on love. She was seen as intelligent, beautiful, graceful, everything the rightful daughter to a king should be. She had proven herself brave and determined in her early days of Queen when she rode into battle against the Duke of Northumberland and dethroned the pretender Lady Jane Grey.

She proved herself merciful as she released all those wrongly imprisoned men from her father's and brother's reign.

She showed herself as a kind Queen as she refuses to harm her cousin Lady Jane. After all it was not Jane's fault that her greedy father in law pushed her on the throne. With Jane locked away in comfort there would be little need to have her beheaded.

She was also proving herself ready to be a mother as she remembered Jane as a little girl that she had loved. Just as she loved Edward and Elizabeth and her many godchildren.

She was proving herself pious as she steadily but determinedly bringing England back into Rome's arms.

She was to be the same beloved saint to her country as her mother was. In fact she maybe more loved since she was the first true queen of England and her mother had only been a consort.

Then it all changed.

There was dissatisfaction throughout the country. The economic situation was terrible, there were more heretics than she thought and no one would return the monasteries or rid of their wives to return to priesthood, there was a sudden need to see her married and no man was right for her, and now people were beginning to think Elizabeth would be the better queen.

Young Elizabeth, beautiful Elizabeth, strong Elizabeth, intelligent Elizabeth, protestant Elizabeth...ignoring the fact that Elizabeth was more of a bastard than Mary.

Mary, ignoring the dissatisfaction as she knew the moment she produced a son like a good woman should they would all love her once more, continued on and chose her husband.

The people began to riot.

They began to call for the Lady Jane or Princess Elizabeth to replace her.

They protested against the idea of a Spanish marriage.

Mary no longer trying to be the saint as she was so very tired, so very lonely, so very desperate to hold her son in her arms and be held by her husband...she just ignored them and continued on with the marriage.

She hacked down the last obstacle in her way – Lady Jane Grey's head – and married the handsome man she desired.

She was no longer innocent.

She looks down at her clean hands and can imagine the crimson blood staining them. She had an innocent girl beheaded. She was no better than her father who had her old governess beheaded.

She was no longer the beloved saint.

Just a Queen who suffered the displeasure of her people.


	34. Disappointment

**Summary: **Mary is filled with disappointment. She is disappointed with Elizabeth, with Anne of Cleves, with her people, and with herself.

**Pairings: **sibling Mary/Elizabeth and friendship Mary/Anne of Cleves.

Mary did not cry or felt true anger or hatred.

She was merely...numb.

Her beloved sister had betrayed her. She had plotted against her with Thomas Wyatt. She desires the throne more than she loves her own flesh and blood. If she is flesh and blood that is. It is highly possible that Elizabeth is Henry Norris' child or Mark Smeaton's. There is no definite prove that Elizabeth is the true daughter of Henry VIII after all she looks more like her mother than her father.

The Spanish ambassador whispers things in her ear and she cannot help but agree with him.

She feels...disappointed. She had hope Elizabeth would prove the ambassador wrong and show the world that she is a loyal sister and subject to Mary.

Mary feels so very disappointed.

She sends Elizabeth to the Tower in hopes of teaching her a lesson. In gaining a confession and ending this charade so she could live in peace without Anne Boleyn's mocking eyes watching her fall in despair.

"Your Majesty," one of her ladies interrupts her thoughts, "the Lady Anne of Cleves has asked to see you."

"Show her through," Mary says.

She was not sure if she wanted to see a woman who was so easily converted. She had great affection for Anne but she has noticed Anne would cleverly do as she is asked. She will be whatever Henry VIII asked her to be – wife, sister, Reformer, Catholic – and then she will be a strict Protestant as Edward asked her to be, and now she is a devoted Catholic as Mary asked her to be. If Anne was to outlive Mary, Mary knew that she would be whatever Elizabeth asks of her, and that so very much disappointed Mary.

Anne curtseys, they exchange pleasantries, and then Anne surprises her by announcing she is retiring to the country. Mary feels more disappointment rushing through her. She had hoped her friend would remain to see her wedding.

She questions Anne why she is leaving...

"I do not wish to be next," Anne confesses boldly, "first Lady Jane Grey, now Elizabeth, and then who? I have learned the Reformed faith and am more learned in that than I am in your belief. I merely wish to live privately and will not be forced to make any public statements."

So did Thomas More and he ended up being beheaded because he refused to sign the oath. Only the difference is Thomas More has pride, faith, and devotion, Anne of Cleves was a woman willing to do as one wishes.

"I do not understand why though. I know you are loyal to me as you have been loyal to every true sovereign. I have no reason to commit you to the Tower, so tell me Aunt, why do you really wish to leave Court?"

"I am disappointed," Anne says quietly and quickly. Mary would not punish her but she wishes Anne was not so...truthful. "I am so disappointed in you. You prefer to listen to men who only wish for your favour over your own flesh and blood. You have chosen to send your very own sister to the Tower and your very own cousin to the block. You have blinded yourself and that disappoints me because I know you are one of the most intelligent and learned women in the country. I am just so disappointed and much prefer to be alone than here."

After murmured apologies, a farewell, and regards given, Anne leaves the moment Mary dismisses her. Mary did not say anything; she coldly glared at Anne, coldly dismissed her, and vowed to not invite her to Court.

She was disappointed to. Not at Anne, not at Elizabeth, not at her own people, but with herself.

She was so very disappointed at what she was becoming.

She felt like she was drowning in self-shame and disappointment.

However she was too stubborn to change anything. She will continue down this path until she drowns in this disappointment completely.


	35. Obsession

**Summary: **Mary's thoughts on her new husband Phillip of Spain.

**Pairings: **one-sided Mary/Phillip, hint of Mary/Phillip of Bavaria, and mentions of Phillip/Elizabeth.

He was the most handsome man she had ever met.

(She almost, nearly, not quite, admits to herself that Anne's cousin Phillip had been more handsome.)

His eyes were dark and piercing, his body was proportioned perfectly, he lacked the Hapsburg chin, he wore fine clothes, held himself right, had beautiful manners, a lovely deep voice that sent tremors down her...

She was obsessed with him.

She was filled with a passionate desperate obsession to know everything about this man, to love him thoroughly, to hold him and be held by him, to see him in the nude, to bear his children, to be near him at all times...

(A little part of her wonders if she has gone mad like her aunt – his grandmother.)

She has never felt so much desire before in her life. She has never felt so much happiness than the moment she is in his presence. She has not felt this young since the days when she lived near her mother and father and believed everything to be happy.

Yet this obsession had a dark side to it.

She has never felt so desperate to grab hold of something. She has never felt so miserable before than she has as the people shout abuse, he does not smile, he does not hold her, he stares at her young sister as if she is the most alluring woman he has seen, and he shudders in revulsion when Mary reaches out to touch him. She has never felt this old until she sees her husband silently compare her to all the younger, beautiful ladies in her court.

She has a dark obsession to gouge his eyes out so he could no longer stare at Elizabeth (that whore! She is just like her mother! Making eyes at men that are not hers for the taking!) Or any other lady. She obsesses over where he could be when she cannot see him, what he could be doing, who he could be doing, and how he could love one far more than her. She has a strong urge to push him on a bed, pull his hose down, and show him how she could truly be a sexual being.

Instead she prays desperately for forgiveness for her evil thoughts, for strength to survive this agony, for patience, for her husband to return her love, for a son to put in the cradle, for all this worry, obsessing, and desire to be over and done with.

He goes to war and she obsesses over his safety and virtue. What if he dies? What if he is injured? Or what if something happens and he finds himself in the arms of a beautiful French woman? When will he come back? Does he miss her? Has he realised his love for her? When he does return will he take her into his arms and kiss her so?

She prays, she obsesses, she loves, she hates, she prays again while she obsesses.

She has become nothing but obsession personified.


	36. The Bloody Path to Being Bloody Mary

**Summary: **Mary's thoughts on how she had become the infamous Bloody Mary

**Pairings: **Henry/all six wives implied and Mary/Philip of Spain/Philip of Bavaria/others

It was in her blood.

The fanaticism, the obsession, the hate, the bitterness, the bloodthirstiness, the devotion, the pride, the temper, and the stubbornness.

It was all in her blood.

She can so easily blame this on her family. Her grandmother Isabella of Castile had given her the fanaticism of Catholicism, she had started the Inquisition, she had crusaded in God's name, and she had been Mary's idol when she was a young child.

Isabella started the burnings Mary just brought them to England.

Her great grandmother Margret was just as devoted to the Catholic faith as her maternal grandmother and mother. Her grandfather was prideful, stubborn, temperamental, and bitter. Much like her father. They all obsessed and hated something.

So her faults were her inheritance.

But she would not have used this flaws if it had not been for the situation.

One day she was a beloved princess, the pearl of her father's world, the apple of everyone's eye, the prettiest little girl in all of England. Then the next she was an unwanted, in the way, insignificant, no good, lousy, disobedient bastard.

And it was all Anne Boleyn's fault.

That harlot who dared turn her bewitching eyes on her father. The whore who thought she had the grace and right to sit herself on Mary's mother's throne. The slut who spread her legs and failed to do every vile whispered promise of bearing a son.

She caused this mess. She whispered ideas of Reformation and Divorce in between pants of disgusting lust. She manipulated and pushed and smirked her way up the ladder to be a false Queen.

Though her father was not far in the blame. He could have reverted back once he saw the error of his ways; he could have married Jane Seymour as Katherine of Aragon's widow, Defender of the Faith, and loving father to his only heir the Princess Mary. Instead he hastily wedded after killing one wife and denounced both Mary and Elizabeth as bastards while praying for that much desired son. He continued to wed and throw away wife after wife, he refused to go back to Rome, and he dissolved the Monasteries, and allowed heretics to grow stronger within his Court.

It was her father's fault.

It was also the fault of her brother Edward and his advisors who also persecuted her and her people for their faith. It was the fault of Lady Jane Grey who did not convert and remained her beloved cousin but stood up as a martyr to the Protestant faith. It was the fault of Elizabeth who was young, beautiful, the image of Anne Boleyn and Henry Tudor, a Protestant, and heir apparent – and therefore far superior to Mary. It was the fault of her advisors and Catholic fanatics who wished to stamp out Protestantism and whispered poison into her already bitter heart. It was the fault of her husband for breaking her heart and refusing to come home. It was the fault of Philip of Bavaria who never wrote to her after winning and then breaking her heart. It was the fault of all those princes and lords who kept breaking their promises to marry her. It was the fault of the people for being so ready to rebel.

But, no matter how much she tries to deny it, it was her fault for keeping hold of every bitter feeling, every childhood resentment, every jealousy, and every heartbreak.

And that is what led to her to be Bloody Mary.


	37. Fear

**Summary: **Elizabeth has always had to live in fear.

**Pairings: **Henry/Anne implied Mary/Philip of Spain, Elizabeth/Tom Seymour/Philip of Spain, and sibling Mary/Elizabeth.

Her first real memory had been of her father and mother arguing. It had been very frightening and she had trembled in her mother's arms. A few days later her mother disappeared forever and she was called Lady Elizabeth instead of Princess Elizabeth.

She did not find out what really happened to her mother until Kitty Howard was beheaded and then she learnt of the true dangers of the Royal Court.

Displease your monarch in any shape or form and it does not matter how closely related you are to the monarch you shall lose your head anyway.

She was in fear of displeasing her father who had such a short temper that one wrong word would send you to the Tower.

She was in fear for herself when her father died and she realised he was her only protector at Court.

She was in fear of being executed for merely being a victim of Tom Seymour's when he was sent to the Tower.

She was in fear when her brother died and Lady Jane was crowned. Northumberland obviously wanted her dead and she fended him off by playing sick. And she was sick, sick to the stomach that she was so cowardly that she would hide under the bed covers and pray for Mary's victory.

She thought it would be over when she was embraced by her loving sister outside of London before Mary was crowned.

The Spanish ambassador and the Catholic lords and priests whisper poison in Mary's ear and Mary changes from loving to cold almost overnight.

Soon enough she has found herself surrounded by enemies that were eager to see her dead and that terrified her. The French may prefer her on the throne because she has no bias towards the Spanish but they were so obvious they would kill her in the process. The Spanish were desperate for her to die she was the daughter of a whore and the personification of the Reformed faith to them. The Catholic faction may not want her dead but they do not want her to be heir to the throne. They would have the Scottish Queen and all her French influences than her.

Her own cousins do not stand up to protect her because their loyalties lay with themselves and they are Catholic.

If it was not for her staff, Kat, and Cecil she would be entirely alone in this world and that terrifies her.

Her followers are no better than her enemies. They plot to put her on the throne and with their failure she is sent to the Tower. The Tower is everything she is scared of, it was the place her mother died in, it was where all traitors were sent, and it was the place where two royal princes just simply vanished. She would either be executed or simply disappear.

She was icy cold in her fear though for brief rare moments she would feel comfort. The little boy they brought her flowers, Kat's loving arms around her, and the sight of her sweet Robin who has been nothing but a good friend all these years, they were all comforts to her. but then the little boy vanished, Robin was set free, and nothing Kat could do or say would comfort Elizabeth when she found her mother's name carved in the window sill.

She was out of the Tower but not free. Mary would no longer listen to her let alone believe a word that came out of her mouth. She had Elizabeth watched every moment of the day and when Elizabeth was welcomed back at Court to meet her brother in law she was indeed watched every moment of the day. Philip of Spain's eyes follow her and she cannot get rid of that disgusting chill she feels whenever she is near him.

He reminds her too much of Tom Seymour – lustful and ambitious while not too hard on the eyes.

Mary was bound to have her heartbroken and it will be Elizabeth's fault.

Elizabeth kept Kat close to her in those months. She had the door locked and guarded in case Philip took it to himself to enter her chambers in the early hours of the morning like Tom Seymour did once upon a time.

She lived in fear and even when she was finally home it did not ease up. She watched the roads warily waiting for that inevitable moment when men will ride up it and arrest her for treason.

Because it now seems her very own existence is treasonous.

One day it happened. Men rode up the road on their great horses, they looked grim and solemn, and she stood up, back straight, head held up proudly, for she was a Tudor and a Tudor shall never show their fear to the common people.

She is taken back when they knell before her.

"The Queen is dead! Long Live the Queen!"

It takes every ounce of her strength to not crumple in relief. She was free. She was free from fear. She was free from suspicion. She was free to be her true self a Protestant Queen daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. Her relieve drowns out her sorrow over another family member dead as she murmurs something serene and worthy to remember by history.

She no longer needed to be afraid.


	38. Welcome to Heaven Part 3

**Summary: **Mary has a very strange welcome to Heaven.

**Pairings: **implied Henry/Katherine of Aragon/Anne Boleyn/Jane Seymour/Kitty Howard/Kate Parr/Mary Boleyn and implied Mary/others.

When Mary opened her eyes once more she was welcomed by the wonderful sight of her mother. Her mother was exactly as she remembered, dark, exotic, wise, loving, and beautiful despite how age had worn her out. She immediately welcomed Mary with a warm embrace and Mary could smell her musky scent.

"Mama," she breathed blissfully.

"I am so proud of you," her mother said in Spanish, "you are the first true Queen of England just as I knew you would be when you were only a baby in my arms."

"I have done dreadful things," Mary confessed, "I lost Calais, I did not bear an heir, and I never managed to bring England truly back to Rome. I do not belong here in Heaven with you."

"Nonsense my child," Katherine said, "if your father is here then you definitely belong here as well. You are more of a King than he ever was."

"Here, here!"

Mary jumped as she realised for the first time that there were other people around them. She had been so focused on her mother who she had not seen in over twenty years that she did not realise there were others. She was even more surprised to see the dark haired, snub-nosed Anne Boleyn grinning at her, with the blonde sweet Jane Seymour sitting beside her, playful childish Kitty Howard sat cross-legged on Anne's other side, and Kate Parr sat there beside her with little Edward smiling uncertainly beside her.

Her father was hunched over groaning to himself on the far end of the table. There were many empty seats that had names on them written in a variety of handwritings, her four dead stepmothers and mother had obviously decided together who would be allowed to sit with them in heaven. Most were already dead, probably had gone to visit other people in Heaven, while a small handful were waiting for those who were living to join them. The most notable were Elizabeth's and Anne of Cleves'.

Mary felt a blow to the stomach at the idea of either of them dead.

She decided to ignore the feeling in favour of being shocked that such adulterous women like Anne Boleyn and Kitty Howard could get into Heaven.

"Anne was innocent and Kitty is too naive to be anything but innocent despite her guilt in having affairs," Mary hears her mother murmur in her ear.

The knowing look in all of her stepmothers' faces told Mary that they knew there would be several conversations airing out all of the difficulties they had with one another. Mary wasn't sure she really wanted to go through those conversations especially since she imprisoned Elizabeth who was not only Anne's daughter but Kitty and Kate's favourite stepdaughter.

"Let's forget the past for now," Anne said calmly, and rather maturely considering the last conversation they had she was practically throwing a hissy fit at being called a whore, "instead why don't you join us for a drink and tell us how your father ruined your life."

"Or we can simply discuss how terrible husbands monarchs make," Jane said sweetly.

"Or just how nasty men are in general," Kitty said cheerfully, "Oh not you Edward!" she reassured the young boy who was silent as the grave. Pun fully intended. "You're still adorable and cute!"

"Father did ruin our lives," Edward said quietly.

"Ruin is an understatement," Mary said viciously, "he destroyed any chance for me to have my own child, made me distrustful, bitter, and was an embarrassment to England! Did you know he ruined my first betrothal with the French Dauphin simply because he lost a wrestling match with Francis I?"

"I had never been so embarrassed in my life," Katherine muttered.

"Looking back I can never figure out why I was attracted to him considering his sulking child hissy fit and the fact he shagged my sister immediately afterwards," Anne added.

"We certainly have questionable taste in men," Jane agreed.

Mary felt a smirk grow on her face when her father let out a whimper.


	39. Overwhelmed

**Summary: **Elizabeth is finding those first few months as Queen to be overwhelming. Inspired by bits of The Virgin Lover by Philippa Gregory.

**Pairings: **implied Robert/Elizabeth, hint of parental Cecil/Elizabeth.

She did not know how to feel.

After the relief of no longer having to fear for her life had died down she felt empty. How was she supposed to feel? Sad, depressed, and lonely because her sister is now dead? Or happy, excited, and victorious because she was now Queen? Should she feel a dignified regal-ness as many expect her to? Is she supposed to suddenly feel Queenly?

All she felt was a numb empty feeling as she allowed these lords and bishops kiss her hand and call her 'Your Majesty'.

She felt the small spark of fear when she returned to the Tower and exhilaration and happiness when the crowds cheer for her.

She did not feel this holy moment, this serene knowledge, this power, the crown and sceptre was supposed to give you during your coronation.

She did not know how to feel about suddenly being the centre of this poisonous web called the Court.

She just knew she would give anything to know what her mothers, father, brother, and sister thought of her now.

She did not know what to think.

Well she did. She knew her mind well. She knew she was a Protestant, that she was for the English to have supreme power, and that she did not want to marry (though as she glances at the dark and handsome Robert Dudley she wavers just a little on that thought). But she had to please her people, many were Catholic, many wanted her to make alliances and appease the European nations, and all of them wanted her to marry.

So she came across uncertain to her councillors.

She came across unfeeling some of the time to everyone.

While inside her head there was war going on with many thoughts, feelings, and pieces of knowledge learnt from the cradle. She did not know what to do, or feel, or think and she feel as if she is drowning in everything.

She cries on Cecil's shoulder one night when war with France is declared.

She is just too overwhelmed.

She did not the true curse of being a monarch until now.

She needs to learn quickly before it's too late.

She needs to be decisive before it's too late.

She needs to suppress her emotions before they rule her head and it'll be too late to save her and England.

She wonders if this is what her sister, brother, and father felt as well.

It is all overwhelming.


	40. Fairest of Them All

**Summary: **Elizabeth ponders on her envy and competitive nature when it comes to Mary, Queen of Scotland.

**Pairings: **one-sided men/Elizabeth and men/Mary Queen of Scots, hinted Elizabeth/Thomas Seymour, and if you look very hard a slight hint of Elizabeth/Robert in the future.

_Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?_

Elizabeth is strangely enough alone in her bed chambers when she glances in the looking glance and this little thought came to her. She is beautiful and in the prime of her life but it shall not last. There are many young girls out there with pretty looks that shall grow into beautiful women. One of these many young girls is on the very cusp of womanhood and is now her biggest threat.

Mary, Queen of Scotland.

She did not know when it began but there was suddenly a competition between Mary and herself.

They have never met and yet they seem to compete for all of Europe's attention.

Elizabeth had been so used to being the beautiful one. With a sister like Mary who had always been pretty until middle age where she dulled and faded into plainness there was always little competition for the beauty title. Lady Jane may have been some competition if she ever aged beyond that petite shy child. Elizabeth had always been centre of attention with her flashing dark eyes, Tudor red hair, pale perfect complexion and complimentary clothing.

Now there is a beautiful foreign Queen to compete with.

One with dark hair, equally perfect pale complexion and beautiful eyes that had sonnets written about them.

One who was devoutly Catholic and quickly becoming popular amongst the Catholic faction.

One who was married to the Dauphin of France and would one day become Queen of France as well as Scotland.

One who had her eye on the throne of England.

They were well matched, Elizabeth muses, equally beautiful, talented, and ambitious.

Mary could play instruments as well as Elizabeth. She can dance beautifully and gracefully as if she was a swan. She can ride, converse, and charm as well as Elizabeth could. She dressed as richly, she had jewels with equal wealth; she had the sweetness and delicateness of a true woman.

Elizabeth cannot abide her! She abhorred such a woman!

This woman happily plays the sweet child and wife and allows men and a greater woman than her play the political game with Elizabeth. Elizabeth feels sorry for the mother who is working endlessly against England for this woman is working for a lost cause – her child shall never be a powerful force as she was.

Men wish to put her on the throne simply because she will do what she is told not because she is a true Queen.

To make matters worse she was Elizabeth's heir. While there are still some Grey sisters left alive and of course the Poles with their Yorkist blood the one closer and had a stronger claim to the throne was Mary, Queen of Scotland.

Elizabeth now fully understood her sister's issues against her.

Elizabeth would not allow such a child to win a game.

She was beautiful and she enhanced such beauty with tasteful clothes, jewels, and make up all worn at the right moment. She was intelligent and shrewd and witty, and she applied this all at the right time and meetings. She was talented – musically, athletically, and on the dance floor, she used all of these to her advantage when entertaining ambassadors. She was unmarried – something Mary is not – and while this does not have the forbidden fruit that a married woman would hold she was available and that appealed to all the unmarried princes in Europe. They wanted Elizabeth's hand in marriage not Mary's political alliance or flirtatious favour in a joust.

Mary may be a rising star but Elizabeth was the sun – she shone and dazzled the world with constant light while Mary simply sparkled in her youth.

Elizabeth has scandals, yes that is and will be true, but she does not have disastrous scandals as other Queens will have.

Elizabeth has been through the game already when she was fourteen and completely innocent. She knows how to play this, she knows she will go through rough moments, and she knows that she can live with it and get pass it.

Mary won't know and knowing the Tudor luck when Mary gets into the position Elizabeth had been in once she will have no idea what to do or have anyone to help her.

Elizabeth cannot help but let out a laugh at that. She feels like one of those evil stepmothers that Mary had made Anne Boleyn out to be. She felt so old compared to this child Queen that she cannot help but feel a bitter malicious triumph.

Then Elizabeth will be the intelligent one.

Then Elizabeth will be the most appealing one.

Then Elizabeth will be the most just, the kindest, the sweetest, beautiful Queen ever seen.

Then Elizabeth will be the fairest of them all.


	41. True Love's Kiss

**Summary: **the relationship of Elizabeth and Robert Dudley.

**Pairings: **Elizabeth/Robert, mentions of Robert/Amy, Elizabeth/Thomas Seymour, Elizabeth/Philip of Spain, parental Elizabeth/Henry VIII/Anne Boleyn/Kat Astely/ William Cecil.

They had met one dull day in the school room.

Their surroundings were dull, the weather was dull, and the particular subject had been dull.

And yet she shall remember it well because he had been dazzling. He was the striking, young, handsome boy with a cheeky streak and bright intelligence.

And yet he shall remember it well because she had been dazzling. She was the beautiful young princess with wit, intelligence, and great skill with a sword.

They would banter, laugh, fight, and occasionally dance. It was all wonderfully sweet and only friendship back then when they were children.

The King dies.

The lords and gentlemen of the Court fight over power as she is shunted aside and he is off to rebel against his father by marrying for love with a sweet girl.

The King dies.

Lady Jane is locked up for treason and so is he. The days get darker as he watches people being brought into the Tower on various charges of Treason only to be dragged out for execution – his brother, father, and sweet tiny sister in law were amongst the many to have their head cut off.

She is brought in. Radiant as ever, her red hair glowing like a halo, her skin pale, her dark eyes dark with fear and sadness. They do not speak to each other but they take great comfort in knowing they are near one another and share so many understanding looks, comforting looks, small sad smiles, and the sighs of relief that they made it through another day whenever they pass one another in the corridors under heavy guard.

The Queen dies.

Long live the Queen!

He is by her side now. Handsome, cheeky, and brilliant as ever and she is the beautiful intelligent Queen that everyone cannot help but admire.

They touch now.

Innocent little touches, brush of fingers, the occasional hand holding during dances, the slight brush of hand against clothing, and oh! They stand so very close to one another that she could hear his breathing quicken just a little bit and feel the warmth of his solid strong body.

She had once sworn to never allow herself feel such desire after Thomas Seymour – it was disgusting, dirty, and shameful. But Robert Dudley! Oh he was the perfect specimen of manhood! He made this passionate urge to kiss and shred clothing to feel nothing but perfection.

He scolds himself every night because he has a wife that he loves. Though the love has faded and died as Amy becomes nothing but nuisance who cannot understand that he is needed at Court if she wishes to have living and home of her own. He thinks about his wife but suddenly the blonde turns into a vibrant silky red in his hands, the sweet pale blue turns into desire filled dark brown, and the plain clothe turns into velvet and silk beneath his very fingers.

He finds himself masturbating at the thought of the Queen instead of his wife. May God, England, and Bessie forgive him.

Bessie...he is the only one who still calls her that and that is only in their most private moments. He sometimes forgets she is Queen.

She sometimes forgets she is Queen. There are days she wishes she was nothing more than plain old Bessie Dudley. The wife of Robert Dudley. She thinks of all that love, companionship, the martial bed, and the children they would have. They would be handsome children with both hers and his dark looks. She thinks of names, shamefully so she acts like a love struck maid and thinks of her four children all named by after the people she loves most, Anne and Katherine, William and Robert. They might have more children, she almost giggles at the thought.

She loves him so very much. He is the only man she has ever loved so desperately.

True she loved her father but her fear of his temper drowned it out. She loved her brother but they grew distant. She never loved Thomas Seymour though she once sort of thought she did. She never loved King Philip of Spain who protected her from her own sister out of lust. She loved William Cecil in a way one would love a father, and while she has many male friends and relatives vying for her favour she does not think of them much.

Her heart was solely Robert's.

But her soul was England's and England won out in the end.

He shall always be her one true love.

But like he had been trapped in his marriage with Amy, and then the scandal of her death, she was trapped in her solemn vows to be a good Queen to England.

They could never be.

They could only hope to have a chance in another life.

They kiss – desperately, filled with desire, hurt, love, hate, and passion. His lips are soft and wonderful against hers as he clings to her tightly.

He will always be her one true love.


	42. The Forgotten Tudor

**Summary: **Lady Margret Douglas is furious to be forgotten by her own family but it doesn't matter because she shall have her revenge in the best way possible.

**Pairings: **Lady Margret/Others and some Mary/Darnley

She hated them.

Her family, her country, her people, she hated them so much.

She was a princess too! She was a Tudor as well! She could be heir to the throne as easily as her dear niece!

Instead she is known simply as a Countess who is disliked by her queen and forgotten by her people.

Lady Margret Douglas can see a pattern here.

Her mother Queen Mary, eldest daughter of Henry VII, wife of the Scottish King long gone dead, and grandmother to her namesake the little Queen of Scotland, had easily forgotten her own daughter. Margret was a product of a disastrous marriage that happened hastily after the death of the first husband. Her mother petitioned and eventually succeeded in divorcing her father and during this scandal Margret had been born and then left as a Ward to her Uncle as her mother ran off to marry another Scottish Lord.

Her Uncle and his wife had little to do with her upbringing. Her education had been reported to them, her clothes, lodging, and things paid by them, and she in return sent loving gifts at the holidays as one should. She did not see her Uncle until she was at the age of being a Lady in Waiting to the Queen and even then she was ignored for most of the time.

Forgotten.

She fell in love and her Uncle suddenly remembered how much Tudor blood she had and sent her in the Tower while annulling her marriage.

She was quickly forgotten again as those four walls became the only thing she knew and hated.

She was eventually let out and there was a new Queen...Anne or was it Katherine? She cannot remember it was so very confusing. She fell in love again and she loved the feeling because someone cares about her, knows her, recognises her, and most importantly remembers her.

She finds herself in the Tower once more.

And forgotten again.

Eventually it works. She has a husband, a title, and children, and really she should be happy.

But her Uncle took her line out of the succession. She has more right to the throne than the likes of that little girl Lady Jane Grey!

The nerve of that Dudley to put such a little child on the throne when there is a fine mature woman. Queen Margret would have never lost her throne as quickly as Queen Jane.

She is a special guest at Court when her cousin Mary was on the throne though it quickly became obvious that she was only there to upset Elizabeth.

She is overshadowed by the plain, worn-out, bloodthirsty old Queen and the pretty whore's child Princess.

Elizabeth becomes Queen and no one remembers Margret.

She is simply the forgotten Tudor.

That fact simply fills her with bitter resentment.

When the news that Elizabeth wants Mary, Queen of Scots to marry a trusted Englishman came out Margret sent her son to woo the beautiful queen. She wanted the Tudor lineage to be strong in their child. She wanted her son's child to be on the throne of England once the red-headed bastard died. She wanted it to be her dynasty instead of this godforsaken Tudor one that ignored and forgot their own blood.

She laughs delightedly when her son writes the good news of winning Mary's heart.

Long live the Stuarts!

Let the Tudors regret forgetting about their princess, the Lady Margret, for she has proven to be just as determined and stubborn as true Tudor should be.

She may remain the forgotten one but her grandchild shall be remembered always.


	43. Marriage

**Summary: **based on the final scene of Elizabeth film in 1998. Elizabeth declares herself married only to England before her Court.

**Pairings: **implied Elizabeth/Robert Dudley/Thomas Seymour/Philip of Spain implied Henry/Wives, Mary/Philip of Spain, Jane Grey/Guilford Dudley, and Katherine Parr/Thomas Seymour.

She sat there frozen as if she was a portrait and not a real being. It was similar to sitting for a portrait actually; she was motionless and expressionless, barely breathing, as she stared in her reflection.

Her Kat, her beloved governess and now chief Lady in Waiting, was cutting through her thick hair. Her beautiful long mane of fiery red gold hair that she had been praised for in her youth. The hair that had been prove of her Tudor ancestry, that she was indeed Elizabeth of York's granddaughter, the true daughter of Henry VIII, a true princess of the blood no matter what people whispered. Kat was sobbing as she cut the silky mane she had lovingly brushed night and day for the past twenty or so years. Kat had always loved her hair.

Every curl that fell off her head and onto the floor she thought about the married women who have suffered in their life. Katherine of Aragon who was so faithful and then suddenly banished upon sight, her daughter Mary whose husband left when he could and never looked back only glancing sideways at the pretty sister, Anne Boleyn, her own mother, who had her head chopped off and good name ruined, Jane Seymour who died in the effort of bringing a son in the world, Anne of Cleves who was thrown away because she was too ugly, Kitty Howard who died brutally and caused Elizabeth to vow never to marry, Jane Grey whose husband's father led her to the block, Katherine Parr whose husband preferred her little stepdaughter over herself, her grandmother Elizabeth who was said to be treated coldly, Princess Margret who died believing the man she married for love no longer loved her...

The list becomes endless and soon her hair is nothing but short and plain.

Her creamy skin is turned paler and whiter like the fairy tale of Snow White through the use of paste on her skin. Every gentle rub from her maid caused her to think about every time she had been treated wrongly – as the bastard daughter, the disgraceful ward, the Protestant sister, the Woman, the Lover of Robert Dudley. Every title that had either wrongfully or rightfully placed on her – Princess, Lady, Bastard, Queen, Woman, Unmarried, Redheaded Whore, Heretic...the shouting of so many men echo in her ear.

She stands dressed plainly in her undergarments and stares at her reflection. She looks like how Joan of Arc had been described. A boy almost. A martyr for the flames. A saint.

"I have become a virgin, Kat," she said quietly and calmly.

She is then dressed in rich silver under dress followed by a white silk over dress, pearls and diamonds stiffening the soft material and making it heavy on her. A stiff round ruffled collar was placed round her neck, it was a new fashion and it made her look more royal and imperial and of course beautiful. A red curly wig is placed over her head hiding the boy cut droplets of pearls adorning the hair making her look more imperious than ever. Red lips, more jewels, and then the important ring that she never takes off had completed the look.

She calls for an audience with her Court and has them all kneeled down before her as she slowly but surely glides into the room. She throws out her power, overwhelms them, enthrals them, and shows them a true Queen.

She paused and holds her hand out to Cecil.

"Observe Lord Burghley," she said using her rich voice, deeper than before for this is important, "I am married." Only she is the groom, not the bride though she shall be a wife of sorts. A husband is her ruination; he would have his own ambitions, his own bias, and his own male pride getting in the way. Yes he would give her a legitimate heir to continue the Tudor Dynasty but he would be horrible if there were only daughters and why should she want to pass over her eldest daughter (who would surely be beautiful, intelligent, graceful, witty, and strong) for a son (who might be weak and ill like poor Edward had been)? There is only one great person who deserves her full attention, her love, her devotion, her loyalty, her faithfulness, her heart, her soul, her whole self, and it was not a husband. It was her country. "To England," she said loudly.

She passes over Robert Dudley who will always be the man she was in love with but it could never be. It would ruin them all if he was King, as much as she loved him she knew the scandal, the way he threw money around, his traitorous background, and what he could make her do through her love for him would ruin everything.

And she owed it to herself, her family, and more importantly to her country to not let that happen.

She sits on the throne by herself and she rules by herself and she remains the virginal queen.

She is only married to England.


	44. Trouble

**Summary: **Mary Queen of Scotland reflects on her life and death

**Pairings: **mentions of Mary/Darnley, Mary/François, Mary/Charles, Mary/Bothwell, Mary/Thomas Howard, and Elizabeth/Robert Dudley.

She was a trouble from the start.

That had been what her nurse said laughingly. A mischievous little child with a great sense of adventure. She did not know when to stop and been a great trouble to take care of.

Mary did not mind this description it had added more to her beauty for most people. The beautiful, lively, bright, intelligent, mischievous, troubling girl. She would cause many thoughts in men and keep their eyes upon her. She liked that mostly because it kept eyes away from the likes of the redheaded bastard Elizabeth and her evil mother in law Catherine de Medici.

She led the hide and seeks games in her great big castles causing the nursery staff to worry themselves into nervous breakdowns. She led dances, games, and little parties during lessons though she would instantly prove she was intelligent and truly learning causing her teachers to have great migraines. She held the attention of all the Valois young sons causing fights between them over who should really have the right to her hand in marriage. She held special attention from the King of France himself who saw her as his most favourite and beautiful daughter causing the hatred and envy of the Queen herself.

She grew up into a beautiful young woman and married her childhood sweetheart and betrothed François and set out to live that happily ever after as the future Queen of France and Scotland.

But she could not help but fall into trouble. The temptation to declare herself the future Queen of England as well as France and Scotland was far too much. Her father in law whispers suggestions in her ear that are further encouraged by her French relations and she follows along delighting in the fact she is causing that redheaded heretic some trouble.

Then suddenly, so sudden that it was only Death that could be this cruel, she loses her mother, her father in law, her husband, and a crown all in one swoop.

Trouble continued to follow her. She tried toying with dear Charles' feelings and ended up almost banished out of France by his irate manipulative mother Catherine. She had a terrible trip back to Scotland where she almost froze to death in the blowing cold castles that were nothing like the sunny palaces in France. She was in the worst trouble she had ever been in her life.

Then she felt she found her feet. She was Queen of Scotland, the most beautiful widow in all of Christendom, seeking a husband, and stirring up trouble for her redheaded, much older, virgin, heretical cousin. She enjoyed doing that and hearing her cousin's silly antics in trying to outdo her, Mary once Queen of France, Queen of Scotland, and will be one day Queen of England, a Queen thrice over, in the matters of being graceful, talented, and beautiful.

She meets Darnley and for the first time in her life she has found love that would make her heart beat a little faster and a blush appear on her pale cheeks. (And for once, just once, she might understand why the redheaded bastard had put herself through so much scandal for Robert Dudley.) They marry hastily and go on enjoying life but of course trouble is attracted to her for she is itself personified! Her husband is not the loving man she had thought he was; he is a drunk, a sot, an idiot, and a jealous possessive one too. Her friend is murdered before her eyes and she almost loses her child right there and then on the cold stone floor.

Trouble continues to follow her.

Her people are discontent with her. Her lords dislike her religion and French ways. She is literally the weak female surrounded by strong men who all want a piece of the throne.

She is so very lost.

Then the Earl of Bothwell came into her life and he was handsome, strong, charming in a rough manner, and oh so very sexually attractive. She had never felt so much passion before in her life it was as if she was drowning in it. It was because of this passion she easily turned a blind eye to the murder of her now hated husband. It was because of this passion that she easily climbed onto the back of Bothwell's horse and clung to him as they ran away from the burning house. It was because of this passion she secretly married him and laid with him conceiving their twins who would never live to see the sun. It was because of this passion she was run out of Scotland and abandoned her only child to those bloodthirsty lords.

It was desperation that led her to England and to her greatest enemy.

She was soon locked away in a pretty manor with all she could ask for but her own freedom. She became bored and lifeless as everything she knew and loved was gone from her once more.

It was out of boredom and the need to be free again that she begins to plot.

Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk was an ambitious man who happened to be charming, good-looking, and a bit of a romantic. He was perfect for her and she could not resist the idea of being Duchess of Norfolk until she takes back her throne and become one day Queen of Scotland and England. He just wanted to be king. There was a plan, it was supported by the heretical queen's own lords and it would have worked.

If it wasn't for that sneaky bastard Cecil and that cunning pig Walsingham and their little spies.

Norfolk gone, Spain failed her, and empty promises of loyalty from the Catholic population led to many years of boredom as she grew old, fat, and lonely.

Babington comes along with his plot. The Earl of Shrewsbury so in love with her has turned a blind eye as he loses his wife and the fortune she had brought. Just one shot from an assassin at the redheaded bastard and Mary would be Queen of England. An army to Scotland and she'll reclaim her final throne before marrying and having another child or two. Or perhaps take back those lies she spouted to protect herself and bring back Bothwell and try again.

It all fails.

She is taken to a much worse prison.

She tries to keep calm because the whore's daughter would never behead an anointed Queen it would mean anyone could behead that redheaded heretic as well and she was nothing but a cunning woman who knew to play the game perhaps better than Mary.

She is led to the executioner's block.

It hurts as she gives the executioners hell as he tries desperately to hack her head off.

He holds her head up before the people to pronounce her a traitor.

That troublesome wig of hers causes her head to flop to the ground as he only holds her fake brown curls.

She always was a load of trouble.


	45. Her Father's Daughter

**Summary: **inspired by the crying jag scene in The Other Queen by Philippa Gregory when Elizabeth had to sentence Thomas Howard. After beheading Mary, Elizabeth grieves mostly for what she has become.

**Pairings: **slight mention of Elizabeth/Robert/Lettice.

She sits trembling in a corner of her bed chamber.

Although that is not what her Court is told. They are told that she is grieving in private for having to go against her beliefs and sentencing her beloved Scottish cousin to death. A lie. A very bad lie for the whole world knew how much she despised Mary, Queen of Scots.

She is staring at her beautiful hands.

Ivory white, long elegant fingers, very fine hands to sew, play instruments, and make grand gestures with. The royal ring to prove she is Queen of England sits upon one finger looking more beautiful than it ever did on Mary's fat hand, Edward's baby hand, and her father's meaty claw. She no longer sees fine white hands but monstrous claws soaked in crimson blood.

She gasps and feels more tears running down her face. Warm moist droplets that she had not felt for quite some time.

It wasn't that she loved Mary. She did not know Mary. Never allowed herself to because she just might let the intelligent, beautiful, bright girl into her heart and end up being heartbroken. But she loved the idea of Mary. A cousin, a relative, family. She has so little family left, oh the Howards can claim several degrees of a cousin to her but they were not really family. She rarely sees Henry and Catherine her most beloved cousins and she despises Lettice almost as much as she despised Mary. The red-haired whore who had stolen her beloved Robert Dudley away.

And then there was dear Thomas Howard. A very close cousin who she could not quite bring herself to love because she knew he was Catholic and ambitious as all Howards are but she was just as heartbroken as she was now when she signed his death warrant. How could he force her hand like that? How could he set himself up as husband to Mary and therefore King of Scotland and heir to the throne of England? How could he betray the cousin he had kept an eye on since a young age?

Oh in all honesty she knew how he could do it because all Howards and Boleyns had done it. It was in their blood.

But it made her sick to the stomach and trembling with fear as the one curse she hoped to avoid has truly hit her as it had hit Edward and Mary.

The curse of bloodthirsty beheadings and burnings especially of those who were once close to you in life.

Her father had no problem beheading two of his most loved wives, his dearest friends, and his own cousins, one of which had raised his eldest daughter and was an eighty year old woman near death as it was.

Edward had no issue with beheading his only uncles and link to his long dead mother. He would have beheaded her if he thought she was in on Thomas Seymour's plot.

Mary also had no issue with beheading tiny little Jane Grey, a very close cousin and a beloved one at that. There was no remorse at destroying Cranmer who had been close to the family and was always polite and gentle to her.

And now Elizabeth barely hesitated as she sent the last few members of the family to the block.

She was a monster.

She was a Tudor.

And what was worse she was her father's daughter.

And sometimes there was nothing more horrific than that.


	46. A Body of a Woman

**Summary: **Elizabeth speaks her speech for the troops against the Armada while she thinks about the powerful strong women like herself in the recent years.

**Pairings: **slight mention of Katherine of Aragon/Henry VIII and briefest hint of Mary/Philip of Spain.

They dress her at her specific orders.

Her ladies staring at her in a mix of awe and horror as they watch a man place silver plated armour over her breast. She was wearing her plainest white gown underneath the armour and her new hair so to speak was the deepest red at the longest length she could get it – tumbling down her back to her elbow. She was wearing tough plain boots that men would wear to war or perhaps just a plain hard working poor woman to the field. She is not beautifully painted or elegantly decorated as she would be on a normal day.

Sometimes simplicity is the best way forwards as it had been when she was a young child trying to be the Protestant maid.

She gets onto her horse and rides towards the many soldiers fighting in her name and she feels giddy with pride and wonder at having so many men at her command.

She thinks of Boudicca the Celt Queen who fought the Romans with her fiery red hair. The woman she was trying to imitate today.

She thinks of an ancestor somewhere in the far past, the Empress Matilda who may have caused so many problems and wars with her own pride but was so strong and held tightly to her claim on the throne so she could put her own son on it in her place and started the long line of great Plantagenet Kings her own grandfathers.

She thinks of Eleanor of Aquitaine, another ancestress and a beautiful redheaded one at that. A woman who lived a very long life and held regency for England many times for her son. A woman who many feared as she had no problem amassing an army if needed.

She thinks of Joan of Arc the peasant child who dressed as a man and led a whole army against the English. The woman she admired but did not want to imitate for she wanted her men to respect her as a woman.

She thinks of her great grandmother Margret Beaufort who may not have led an army to battle but certainly prepared one and spun many webs so that her son, Elizabeth's grandfather, could take the throne.

She thinks of her stepmother Katherine of Aragon who had led an army to Scotland and defeated the Scots while her husband, Elizabeth's father, was at war with the French. How she led the army that killed the Scottish king and her own brother in law. How she returned home and tried desperately for heirs and then stood up in a new battle against her own husband for the right to remain married to him. That was a brave woman that she cannot help but grudgingly admire.

She thinks of Katherine's mother Isabella of Castille and how she led an army against the Moors and birthed and raised each child on the battle field. Another admirable woman.

She thinks of her own sister Mary, how she led an army against Northumberland and claimed her own throne in not only her name but for Elizabeth's right to be her heir. She thinks of Mary and how horrified she would be to know her own husband was amassing the largest Armada against her own country. Though she would never have been in this situation as Mary, Queen of Scots would have been her welcomed guest and not her prisoner attempting to murder her.

So many strong women that have led armies.

And she was to be the next one. She will give these men the speech of a lifetime and make them so proud of her, so proud of being English, and so very motivated that the next time she sees them she will be rewarding them for their victory.

She speaks.

She speaks with her passion that she always had but can never use.

She speaks with her temper that she always uses.

She speaks with her grace.

She speaks with her charm.

She speaks with a charisma.

And best of all she speaks all the truth.

"I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm; to which rather than any dishonour shall grow by me, I myself will take up arms, I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field."

The cheers are so loud and roaring that the rest of her speech is almost drowned in it.

She smiles regally at them while inside she is cheering and screaming in joy alongside her people.

Who needs a great king to defend England when there is a strong woman like Elizabeth?

It was a pity that her sister did not learn that or otherwise she would have been a greater Queen than Elizabeth.

Then again...why shouldn't Elizabeth enjoy being the greatest Queen?


	47. Lonely

**Summary: **Elizabeth suddenly realises how old she is and how alone she is now all her friends are gone.

**Pairings: **mother/daughter Kat/Elizabeth, father/daughter Cecil/Elizabeth, Elizabeth/Robert, implied Henry/wives, Tom Seymour/Katherine Parr, and Tom Seymour/Elizabeth.

She looks around her Court and is suddenly filled with terror.

She cannot recognise anyone.

They were all young beautiful girls and young men eager to fill their father's offices. None she had spent her life with. None that she knew every detail about. And worse of all none of them knew her well enough to give her that guidance she sorely needs.

Where was her chief lady in waiting Kat? Where was her beloved Robin? Where was her wise and steady Cecil? Where the hell are Walsingham, and the Parrys, and Aunt Anne of Cleves? Where were her cousins? Where were John Dee, Thomas Howard, and all those old familiar faces in the elderly nobles who had been fresh faced in her father's reign?

She misses them so very much even if she did not like many of them.

She misses Kat the most because she was the mother that Elizabeth never really got. Her own dead, Jane Seymour dead, Anne sent away, Kitty beheaded, and she lost any real chance she had with Katherine Parr when she allowed Tom Seymour to touch her. Kat was there for her through it all. She held her when she cried, put her to bed with a bed time story, taught her the basics of everything from manners to French, brushed her hair, told her off, and lied to the authorities when threatened with torture in the Tower. She was _always_ there.

And then one day she wasn't and there was a great big gaping hole inside of her that can never be filled now.

She misses William Cecil who she trusts with _everything_. The man who spied for her on a regular basis, the man that warned her each and every time someone was plotting against her from the tender age of fourteen years old, the man that advised her on her spending and had no qualms with telling her off about her newest dress that was covered in jewels. He was the father she wanted. A man that looked after her regardless of what she had done or said. A man who went to the end of the world just for her. A man who was always proud of her. A man who held her in her desperate moments when she breaks down. A man who is always there.

And now he isn't and she misses him terribly. More than she had ever missed her own biological father. Then again Henry VIII can only boast about a handful of meetings with her and appointing Cecil as her accountant while Cecil was there all the time.

The worst bit of all was missing Robert Dudley. Her own true and only love. She had never loved another though she had felt strongly about several men. He had always been there somewhere from when they were children. her brother's classmate, her own friend, her contact in Court when she was exiled by her own brother, her comfort in the Tower, and then almost her Lover, Husband, and Father of her child if it hadn't been for all the scandal. Even when he was married to another woman he was still hers and she relished in having him in her heart and being in his. He gave her the largest cheer at Tilbury and the sweetest kiss on her hand for comfort. The next time she hears from him is his goodbye letter as he lied dying in his bed.

At least it was a peaceful death.

But the deaths continue all around her. All her old and dearest friends are disappearing fast and in their place are the next generation and they all watch her with vicious bright young eyes, eyeing up her old, wrinkled, creaky body in hopes that she'll drop dead soon and they would replace her with their favourite.

If this was a different life it would not matter because she would be joining her beloved husband and leaving the throne to either her eldest son or daughter. Perhaps a King Henry IX or a King Robert I or a Queen Anne I. She would be surrounded by children and grandchildren that she would not mind leaving.

Instead she sits alone in her throne barely being able to stand.

She has never felt so lonely before in her life.


	48. The End of Gloriana

**Summary: **Elizabeth reaches the end of her life. Sort of inspired by the BBC Virgin Queen's last scene.

**Pairings: **mentions of Elizabeth/Robert, Elizabeth/Tom Seymour, Elizabeth/England, and a tiny bit of Edward/Jane Grey.

The most painful thing she had ever suffered had not been losing her many mothers or suffering sexual abuse from Thomas Seymour or being locked in the Tower by her own sister or giving up her only love or even the small pox.

None of those even paled in comparison of the most excoriating pain she was feeling now as she watches in horror as they cut her ring off.

Her beautiful ring.

The ring to prove her sovereignty over England.

Her _wedding ring_.

_Her marriage_!

Her once beautiful fine fingers have swollen up like fat sausages that she often compared to Aunt Anne's fingers in her old age. It had become so painful to wear the ring, the gold squeezing her finger mercilessly to the point it was turning royal purple. Her doctors had to saw it off.

It was as if they pulled her heart out.

It would have hurt her less if they did pull her heart out.

Every little hack into the gold band was knife cutting into her heart.

Soon afterwards she found it impossible to stand up. Her legs – her fine, slim, graceful, strong legs – wobbled weakly and she fell back into her throne causing the Courtiers to whisper maliciously. Her bones creaked and ached and she finally felt herself die just a little bit more.

She refused to sit down after that.

She walked slowly, pacing across the room, she would stand by the window and gaze out to her beautiful London but she would never sit down.

The Courtiers grumble about how tired they are of standing but she ignores them. They have little to complain about after all they are young and able.

She can barely get to the chamber pot on time. It is highly embarrassing.

Soon she begins to see things.

She is not insane or mad or anything! She just forgets herself. She spots her sweet Robin from the corner of her eye and when she turns round only to see a handsome stranger flirting with one of her ladies. She thought she heard Mary call out her name only for it to be one of her older Lady In Waiting's. She once thought she saw her Father marching up towards her in a fury and almost had a panic attack.

Then she began to imagine things.

Possibilities.

Each day she falls into a new dream. How it would be like if her mother was never beheaded. There would be no dear Edward and poor Mary would have never sat on the throne but my god Elizabeth could just imagine the proud smile on her mother's face (just like hers) and the warm loving arms of her embrace and she could almost just smell the perfume. The next day she wondered how lovely it would be if Edward never died. How she was the honoured sister to the King, a loving aunt to many Tudor heirs. All golden and beautiful like their father and mother (for some reason it was always undoubtedly Jane Grey, perhaps it was because they were both so serious) and she spoiled them all with sweets and little presents. Another day she dreamt of her own daughter with Robert Dudley, her beautiful heir Anne Tudor who would be the splitting image of Anne Boleyn, oh how Henry VIII and his eldest daughter would roll in their graves.

Then finally one day she just gives up.

Her legs give out under her little weight (she finds food tasteless these days) and she is suddenly in the arms of one her few last trusted friends. She cannot remember his name right now but she has a fond little nickname for him and his father, another very trusted friend, and died not too long before her. This man, her dear friend, has been befriending her Scottish cousin James and she has wilfully turned a blind eye to it because he knew just as much as she did that James was to be King of England and he will need one of her own trusted advisors to help him keep the throne.

She is laid out on her rich bed but it feels so very cold. The sheets and its fine velvet duvet did nothing to warm her.

They are questioning her now. Begging to know the answer to the very important question.

_Who is to be your successor?_

She cannot answers all she sees is black spots before her eyes blocking all those stupid men out.

Well she cannot be mad about that, who needs men?

She struggles to speak and she hopes to god she had said 'My cousin, the Scottish King, to be successor' and she prays dearly it would be enough to make amends for killing his mother.

But as the blissful comforting darkness overcomes her and she falls into ignorance she cannot help but think;

_Does it really matter anymore?_


	49. Welcome to Heaven Part 4

**Summary: **Elizabeth gets a huge welcome to heaven.

**Pairings: **implied Margret/Jasper/Edmund triangle, Arthur/Katherine of Aragon if you squint, mentions of Tom Seymour/Katherine Parr/Elizabeth, Henry/all six wives, all six wives/Elizabeth in mother/daughter, sibling Elizabeth/Mary/Edward, and implied Robert/Elizabeth.

The first thing she heard was a familiar voice shouts her name. Not that she paid any attention really, she was slightly preoccupied with the fact she looked nineteen again. The voice shouted her name again and then suddenly she is swept into a smothering warm embrace.

A slight musky scent from all that incense a Catholic alter burns mixed with rose and lavender...

She was being held by Mary.

"Mary," she whispered, she will admit it she was in shock considering Mary practically wished her dead before.

Her sister pulls away and Elizabeth is further stunned by how beautiful she was. She hadn't seen her sister this radiant and beautiful since she was a child. "Elizabeth, I'm so sorry, I was so horrible." Mary said quickly before Elizabeth could say anything. "I was bitter, resentful, angry, possessive and obsessive, and I should have never taken it out on you. You were just an innocent during this. I want you to know I put the blame on the right person."

"Who?" Elizabeth asked tentatively, she was worried it was going to go back on her mother again.

"Our father."

There was a groan and a whimper from somewhere but Elizabeth ignored it as she was suddenly almost tackled to the ground by a forceful weight. "Elizabeth!" Edward cried out looking healthier than he ever did when he was alive...err was that a good thing? "You were amazing Elizabeth!"

"You were," Mary agreed. "I wish I had never married and then perhaps I could have been a better Queen."

Elizabeth does not contradict her older sister. She whole heartedly agreed with her, after all if it was not for Phillip, his ambassador and Bishop Gardiner they could have made a great two women team and mended England a lot quicker than Elizabeth did on her own.

"Out of the way!" a strange sharp voice snapped. "I want to see her myself! Stop being selfish Mary and Edward!"

"Lady Grandmother!" Edward protested although he stepped away from Elizabeth to reveal a small young looking girl. She could be no older than fifteen but instantly (considering how she was young again) Elizabeth knew she was a lot older than that. She saw no similarities between herself and the woman but there were a few with Mary. "Elizabeth, this is our Great Grandmother, My Lady, the King's Mother." Edward introduced them.

Margret Beaufort grabbed hold of Elizabeth's wrists tightly, narrowed her eyes at her before giving a nod of approval, and then suddenly kissing both of Elizabeth's cheeks and releasing her. "You are the best of the Tudor House. There had never been anyone I am more proud of, apart from perhaps my own son since he did put us on the throne of England, but you were the best. There was very little that you did was stupid."

"Excuse me!" Mary cried out.

"Oh, do not concern yourself with trivia, you understand that I am proud of your devotion to the Catholic Church but you didn't half make a hash out of ruling the country with that marriage." Mary decided not to argue and dragged Edward away somewhere leaving Elizabeth with her slightly eccentric great grandmother. "I suppose I should take you to see the others. Your friends and that Dudley boy will want to see you eventually as well," there is a disdainful sniff, "I do not approve of that boy but I suppose since you waited this long in life on earth you might as well enjoy paradise."

Elizabeth did not say anything but she gave her great grandmother a small smile and was rather surprised to see one in return. She was led to a long grand table where everyone was seated; they were all smiling and laughing apart from one slumped figure that appeared to have given up on death as well as life. A handsome, reddish-blonde haired man stepped up and offered his hand to Great Grandmother who accepted it and disappeared for a stroll with him, Elizabeth deduced that that man must have been her Great Grandfather.

"Oh no, that is your Great Uncle Jasper," a blonde man said reading her thoughts, " your Great Grandfather is down there somewhere talking to your Grandfather, and yes that does mean that Lady Margret Beaufort was in love with the wrong brother, and no that does not mean that Edmund Tudor is not your Great Grandfather, and before you ask I did not read your mind but your facial expressions you share quite a few of them with your sister and brother, I am your Uncle Arthur."

"Pleased to meet you," Elizabeth said holding her hand out. She was extremely pleased to say he took it, flipped it over, and gave it a kiss that a Queen should have. She suspected he only did the same for Mary and perhaps her mother.

"Now I must abandon you to the six wives as I make some conversation with my own parents," Arthur said with a wink and suddenly disappearing to reveal a beautiful woman.

She looked exactly like Elizabeth. The same eyes – colour and shape, - the same nose, the same lips, the same high cheekbones, and the same pale skin. She had deep dark curling hair and wore a very old fashioned dress (Elizabeth reminded herself that this woman had been dead for almost seventy years and could not have the latest lace collar).

This was her mother, the infamous whore, Anne Boleyn.

"Mama!"

She did not know who initiated the hug she just knew it was everything she had wanted for so very long and it did not last as long as she had liked since she was pried out of Anne Boleyn's arms and pulled into the familiar warm arms of Katherine Parr.

"I am so sorry," Elizabeth cried, not quite sure if she was apologising to her mother for being a girl or to Kate for lying with Tom Seymour. "I am so sorry!"

"Nonsense my darling girl you have done no crime to any of us," Kate murmured, stroking her fine red hair and giving her a comforting kiss on the forehead before passing her on to a strange set of arms.

"It is a shame that I never got to hold you or my son in life," a sweet melodic voice said. Elizabeth looked up to the beautiful blonde woman who she had a very vague memory of a Christmas with. This was of course Jane Seymour. "I am sorry, myself, for it was me that caused not only your mother's death but Tom being so close to the Royal Household."

"Nonsense Jane," Anne Boleyn said cheerfully, "we all agreed it was Henry's fault."

Another groan and whimper came from somewhere down the table. The women all rolled their eyes before Kitty Howard bounced across and gave Elizabeth a smacking kiss on the cheek. "Dear Bessie!" she exclaimed. "You shouldn't have not married on my account! Not all women cheat on their husbands and get beheaded."

"Very true but this one husband should not have married you in the first place," a grave woman who looked like a darker version of Mary said softly. Her Spanish accent was thick and warm. Elizabeth felt a little nervous but the woman embraced her and complimented her. "You and Edward are almost like my Mary's children. Therefore I shall love you both dearly, besides I hold everything against your father now."

Another annoying groan and whimper. "What on earth is that noise?" Elizabeth asked.

"Your Father, ignore him, we do," Aunt Anne said gently.

"Everyone has come to welcome you," her mother said excitedly, "Aunt Mary, my sister not Henry's, and Uncle George are here as well though your Aunt Mary on your father's side is somewhere here with Aunt Margret. Quite a few of the Scottish cousins and Grey relatives are here as well."

Elizabeth could see Jane Grey in the corner of her eye talking excitedly to Edward and Mary. A sight she never expected to see. "Even Mary, Queen of Scots?" she asked warily not sure if she was ready to speak to the woman she had beheaded.

"Oh no! Do not worry though, I say give it a century or two and it will all be forgiven and forgotten about."

There slumped figure sat up revealing himself to be Elizabeth's father causing her to jump a little. She didn't expect him to be here for some reason. "So why haven't you forgiven and forgotten yet?"

"She said a century or two, it hasn't even been a century yet, moron," Katherine of Aragon snapped. "Elizabeth dear, would you like to open up about how you feel about your father ruining your life."

Elizabeth felt a smirk grow on her face. _How odd_, she thought to herself, _that I seemed to have inherited my smirk from all of my stepmothers as well as my own mother_.

Henry groaned and smacked his head against the table – repeatedly. Honestly he wondered if it was possible to die again. Anything to get out of this eternal hell.


	50. The End

_Cos we're Tudors_

_Britain's biggest feuders _

_And just like Barracudas _

_We kill with methods foul_

_Tudors!_

_Each enemy a Judas_

_At least we're not as rude as _

_Simon Cowell. _

So this was the end.

There was no Tudor heir. No little boy that Henry VIII could be proud to call his grandson and no little girl to continue the line of extraordinary women. There was only a man with traces of Tudor blood from both sides of the family.

And yet he did something that both Henry VII and Henry VIII had wanted desperately. He had united Britain and created a United Kingdom as he ruled over England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales.

It can be said that the Stuarts have continued the Tudor legacy and that they live on through the Hangover Dynasty and the Windsor Dynasty.

And though there had been scandal, political intrigue, romance, and strong amazing characters there had never been anything quite as interesting as the Tudor family.

There was no sweeter or forbidden romance than there was between Katherine Valois and Owen Tudor.

There was never a more devoted mother and Uncle than Margret Beaufort and Jasper Tudor.

There was never a greater peacemaker as there had been in Henry Tudor and his wife Elizabeth.

There was never a greater mystery than there had been with the Princes in the Tower.

There was never anything more scandalous than there had been with Henry VIII and his six wives and his daughter Elizabeth with her many lovers.

There was never a more poor child than there had been in the story of Edward VI.

There was never a more misunderstood Queen than there had been in Mary I.

There was never a braver girl than there was Jane Grey.

There was never a more bloodthirsty, passionate, intelligent, witty, charismatic, tragic family than there was in the Tudor Family.

This was an end of a dynasty.

_We may never been fair_

_But we were never dull_

_The Tudor Song – Horrible Histories _


End file.
